


Love is a Battlefield (Peace Comes if We Both Give Up)

by Cherith



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fights, Marriage of Convenience, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-14
Updated: 2014-05-14
Packaged: 2018-01-24 17:20:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 30,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1613132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cherith/pseuds/Cherith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the Landsmeet, Daphne Cousland suggests that Teagan marry Anora, instead of Alistair who wants nothing to do with the throne anyway.  Teagan and Anora begrudgingly agree at Daphne's insistence, with no plans set for an actual ceremony until after the Archdemon has been defeated.  Anora doesn't trust Teagan farther than she can throw him, believing him to be submitting only to the political machinations of his older brother, Eamon.  Teagan may not have picked Anora on his own, but he's willing to give their marriage a chance even though he knows he'll have to fight for it.  When Alistair is discovered in Kirkwall, Eamon suggests that Teagan hand over Rainesfere to their nephew to entice him back to Ferelden.  Teagan is unready to hand his land over to an angry Alistair who doesn't seem fitting for the job which puts a wedge between Teagan and Eamon, and when Anora finds out what Eamon's plan has been to get Alistair a title... and ever closer to the throne, she and Teagan's marriage might finally prove to be as fragile as it looks to the outside.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to [seimaisin](http://archiveofourown.org/users/seimaisin) for running the Dragon Age Big Bang challenge again this year, for letting me help out, and for forever being my sounding board on crazy ideas like this one. Without her this story wouldn't exist at all, let alone have grown to the size it did. Thanks also go to the lovely [calypsotea](http://calypsotea.tumblr.com/) for her lovely art to go with my story, and for her helpful beta work when I needed it.

Somewhere in the bannorn, between Ostagar and Denerim, an army of darkspawn marched towards her city.  Yet it was the document before her that weighed most heavily on her mind.  In the Denerim palace, Anora waited in what had been Cailan's office... still was Cailan's office, in her eyes.  There were reminders of him everywhere, everything untouched and just as it had been when he left for Ostagar.  She didn't know if her new husband would use it, or even want it, though by all rights it would be his.  She mentally added Cailan's office to the already long list of things neither of them had talked about yet.  It wasn't like there had been any fair number of hours to discuss these types of things.  There was little time to deliberate.  Even Anora, who considered herself more level headed than most, felt a distinct loss of control.

Before Teagan arrived, she wanted time alone to regard the pledge they were signing.  And some time to breathe.  She did the latter now, hands clasped in front of her waist, fingers clenched.  Next to the parchment was ink, quill and seals for both the Theirin and Guerrin families.  She breathed deeply, nose stinging from the smoke off the fire in the hearth across the room.  It was better than the smell of the ink, or the pot of wax, alone.

Teagan insisted their wedding could not take precedence over the war. Given they'd not had much time to talk, Anora agreed and was grateful for his thoughtfulness to the matter.  His brother was less agreeable, and her father even more disagreeable, but the Warden was a convincing woman.

However, agreeing to marry Teagan and wanting to marry him were not the same thing.  As they waited for the contracts to sign, Anora contemplated what kind of woman it might make her if she prayed for Teagan's death on the battlefield.  She knew it was better to be thankful for the time to process her decision, grieve for Cailan and prepare for the war to come.  Even if she'd wanted to marry Teagan, she knew she could not trust him.  His brother Eamon was too forceful, too powerful, and too angry.  There'd been a time when the Guerrins had been a welcome addition at court.  They were Cailan's family, after all.  But Eamon's eyes towards the throne, and his insistence in putting a bastard child on it, could be a danger to them all.  Teagan was more charming and less interested in political matters than Eamon, but his charm would not be enough.

Anora had resigned herself to gratefulness.  There would not be enough time to make all the decisions she liked with adequate consideration.  It seemed everyone at the Landsmeet had been more concerned with who would rule beside her, or in her place,  instead of considering if she was worthy to rule alone.  Only the Warden Cousland and Teagan had paid any mind to her own feelings on the matter.  And it had been Teagan who had acknowledged her need to mourn Cailan's death.  Even if she could not trust him, she could admit to his kindness.

It was no great secret Anora and Cailan had not been the best of matches, but she loved him-- had loved him.  Cailan had no mind for strategy or organization, and Anora's father saw too many threats where there were none.  So it had fallen to her, early in her marriage, to manage the kingdom.  She had done it well despite her husband's wandering eye and greedy hands.  And though she loved her father, she did not want to envision a Ferelden ruled by his fear.  The Warden's suggestion, of a marriage to Teagan, was a savvy, strategic choice.  Anora owed the women much, but it was the wisdom of the suggestion, not gratitude, that convinced her to agree.  

It helped that once a much younger version of herself had looked at Teagan with admiration.  If Anora had been a mere noblewoman, an arrangement to marry Teagan would have many advantages.  Teagan was younger than the husbands of her peers, had a loyal following in the bannorn, and was from a family with ties to the throne.  And selfishly, she could acknowledge that he was kind, and handsome, and had no rakish reputation to look past.  He was, from almost any vantage point, a sensible choice.  In fact there'd been a time when Anora had heard rumors Teagan was vying for the hand of the young Lady Cousland.  But there seemed to be no love lost between Teagan and the Warden now, and Anora didn't care to ask.  

Still it had come as a surprise when Daphne Cousland had not made some overture for the throne herself, but suggested Teagan as a marriage alternative to his nephew Alistair.  Even Eamon had more supported the idea of Daphne and Alistair allied on the throne, than one where Teagan married Anora instead.  There was a decade’s difference between Anora and Daphne and they had never been good friends, but the woman had earned her respect many times over in recent months.  The young Cousland woman had been a fierce warrior before the Blight, but her dedication to the Wardens had proven quite a surprise.  Then there was the matter of the way Daphne’s parents had died and there had been little other choice for her other than to join the Wardens.  A part of Anora felt she owed Daphne for that.  At the time, Anora had no knowledge of what her father had agreed to with Rendon Howe, but had she handled things with her father different during her marriage to Cailan, perhaps it wouldn’t have come to that.  It wasn’t the only reason she’d agreed with Daphne, but when it came down to it, Daphne’s encouragement was the final encouragement she’d needed in agreeing to wed Teagan.

Anora waited in Cailan’s office, at Cailan’s desk, and stared at the parchment laid out before her.  Rather than disturb her husband’s chair, she stood behind it to read the final version of the unsigned contract.  This document, more than the ceremony itself, was the finality of her agreement to marry Teagan.  Whatever came after this would be on their shoulders, for good or ill.

A knock sounded and Anora was pulled from her thoughts to regard the door.  Her handmaid, Erlina was out in the hall with the guards, but Anora nodded anyway as though the woman could see her.  She lifted her head, eyes sliding to the large doors across the room.

"Enter!"

Teagan was on the other side of the opening doors, his armor polished, dark with a shine that  reflected the firelight as he entered.  He said nothing, but the echo of his armor sounded throughout the room, reminder enough of the war that had set them on this path.

"Bann Teagan," Anora greeted. There was no smile for him, though she admitted to herself she should have tried.  Thinking of Cailan exhausted her however, standing in his office and preparing to marry another man--  his uncle no less-- had turned her mood sour.  She nodded at the desk and said dourly,  "I have everything prepared."

Teagan stopping just beyond the desk keeping distance between them.  "That’s excellent.  And the--"

"Ah, wonderful, you’re both here."  A woman’s voice interrupted Teagan’s question and he turned.  Both he and Anora stared at the Grand Cleric as she entered.  "Is everything ready?"

"Yes," Anora answered.  "As I was just telling Bann Teagan--" she nodded at him, the Grand Cleric coming to stand at his side-- "I have everything ready here."  She stepped closer to the desk and waved her hand over the things that had been laid out.  "All that’s left is your blessing and our signatures."

"And the ceremony of course," the woman reminded them, "as soon as all this nonsense is over."

Anora tried not to make a face at the idea that "this nonsense" was an army of darkspawn and a rioting bannorn in need of aid.  In fact, she was trying to keep her entire body as steady as possible, uncertain if her hands would shake when she took the quill to sign her name.

"Of course," Teagan said, regarding the Grand Cleric with a bright smile.  

Anora had been on the receiving end of that smile many times through the years.  It was a promising smile, all charm and grace, and it made her heart ache for the way it reminded her of Cailan.  This smile wasn’t hers, but she mustered her own tight-lipped grin to complement his.  The Grand Cleric might not believe their guile and charm, but of all people she had to appreciate the effort that went into setting her mood for what was about to happen.

"Excellent." The older woman clapped her hands once and stepped forward, reaching for one of the quills that had been laid out.  Anora stretched her hand out at the same moment and being closer, grabbed the quill first.  She handed it to the Grand Cleric with nod.

"Bann Teagan?" Anora picked up a second quill and offered it to him as he stepped to her side.

"Thank you."  

He took the quill with a smaller smile, one that smile was just for her, soft and somewhat tender.  There was understanding behind his eyes, and she wondered how it was he always knew what people needed to see in him to relax.  He couldn’t feel the things she was feeling now, but it seemed he at least acknowledged this was difficult for her.  Whatever it was, even as she felt his hand slide against her lower back, she felt her shoulders falling gently.  

She grabbed the last quill for herself and together she and Teagan watched as the Grand Cleric signed her name to the bottom of the parchment.  The older woman glanced over it again before moving out of the way, and Anora too skimmed over the now familiar words in those intervening moments.  When she felt the pressure of Teagan’s hand pushing her forward, his touch became distracting.  He hand large hands, his fingers stretched farther than Cailan’s used to, and by that alone she knew, even without looking that they were different.  There was comfort in Teagan’s touch, but she felt the lingering sensation of Cailan pushing her forward not knowing where it would lead.

"My Lady," Teagan said softly as she joined him.  She could feel his eyes on her face and she turned to him, unsmiling, just to see what he looked like.  Or to remember that it was Teagan, and not Cailan, standing behind her.

His brows raised and his lips were half-open, a clear question just beyond his teeth.  "Unless you wish for me to sign first?"

Anora shook her head.  "No.  Thank you, Bann Teagan."  What must be done, would be done, and she didn’t need his attempts at chivalry here.

"As you wish."  

He nodded toward the document and then his hand was gone from her back.  Almost immediately she wished for it back, and hated herself a little for doing so.  

She took a deep breath, leaned down, and signed her name.  

Once she walked away from the desk, she saw Teagan move to fill her place.  She didn’t look back to watch him sign his name.  It was enough to know that he was there, quill in hand.  It was the Grand Cleric’s expression, the grin that spread on the old woman’s face, that told her everything she needed to know.  The declaration on that piece of paper, signed under the watchful eye of Denerim’s Grand Cleric, married them better than any ceremony.  

Married twice, before she'd reached thirty; married twice, to two men of the same family line.  If Anora had ever been allowed to have her own plans for her life, they would have been nothing like this.  

She stood at the Grand Cleric’s side, watching the fire, while Teagan finished applying his signature and the Guerrin seal.  When he was done, he laid his quill with hers and moved toward her, drawing her attention.  But when Anora looked up, Teagan’s gaze was fixed on the Grand Cleric with an expectant look.

"Is there anything further?"  His tone was polite, but Anora thought he looked almost as eager to leave the room as she felt.

"Unless the two of you are ready to speak about ceremonial arrangements," the woman asked.  She looked stern, eyes moving back and forth between them, expecting them to have finally come to their senses and started planning a wedding the city could be proud of, and excited about, despite the circumstances.

It was Teagan that shook his head first.  "I am sorry to disappoint you, again," he answered.  His smile had returned and there was no real sorrow in his apology, but amusing disappointment.  He looked at Anora.

"Teagan has the right of it," she added.  "We cannot yet plan the ceremony for a wedding when war is about to land on our doorstep."  Her omission of Teagan’s title seemed to go unnoticed, and she continued.  "As soon as we are able to focus our attention elsewhere, you will be the first to know."

"So be it."  The old woman nodded, clearly disappointed.  "Then no, there is nothing further needed.  I expect--" she nodded to the parchment-- "that will be safely kept until then?"

"Yes, of course."

"All right.  Then I will bid you both a good afternoon.  You are surely needed elsewhere."  She turned towards the door with a final nod for both of them.  "Your Majesty, Bann Teagan."

The Grand Cleric left, leaving Anora and Teagan to call their goodbyes to her back as she exited.  Just as the woman was out of sight, Anora’s handmaid, Erlina, stepped into the room.  Erlina did not advance further than the doorway, leaving what to Anora felt like miles between the door, and where she and Teagan stood together.  Anora looked at her husband-to-be, who she found watching her intently.  There was a steadiness in his gaze she envied, while her fingers betrayed her uncertainty, twisting against each other.  

Neither she or Teagan spoke and a heavy weight settled on her chest as she tried to think of what needed to happen next.  Her mind was a steady churn of thoughts but she couldn’t keep hold on any of them while she stared at Teagan.  She had a hard time believing a man of such charm could be at a similar loss, and assumed instead that he was waiting for her to speak.  

After what felt like a lifetime of silence, punctuated only by the popping sounds of the fire, Erlina’s footsteps echoed from the walls as she walked to the desk.  The elven woman busied herself with sand and wax, ink and quills.  Then there was the familiar sound of parchment being rolled together, which seemed to be the sound they both needed to come to life again.

Teagan’s broke the still silence between them, smiling first.  "We’ve signed it, but there’s not saying it will happen," he said.  "Or perhaps it will, but the day for such things could be very far off.  If it is the latter, or some other future where we can have that ceremony at last, I will give you my very best, Anora.  Please know that."

Anora forced herself to swallow past the resistance of heavy air in her throat.  She wanted to believe that.  To be fair to Teagan, she preferred him over Alistair.  She preferred him, but she could not really be glad it had come to this.  Grateful perhaps, at the grace and humility with which he seemed to be handling the situation, but no she couldn’t be glad about it at all.

Once more she found it difficult to muster any smile for him.  Instead she lifted her chin and set her shoulders back, meeting his steady gaze with her own.  "Thank you, Teagan. We may-"

"Is it done?"  

She closed her eyes for a moment, frustrated for losing the moment.  Then she turned, side-by-side with Teagan as they greeted clatter of armor and booming voice that was her father’s entrance.  Loghain was not a quiet man; the sound of his approach made her head hurt, and her ears ring.

Anora immediately forgot everything she’d wanted to say and instead nodded to her father.  "Yes, Father.  It is signed and sealed.  All that’s left is to move it to the vault for safekeeping."

"And for Teagan to survive this damned war," her father pronounced with venom suggesting he hoped Teagan did exactly the opposite.

"And for that," Teagan echoed softly.

"Well if it’s done, the two of you can join us in the war room.  Send that--" he pointed his chin toward the desk-- "off to the vault with one of the guards."

"I’ll take it," Erlina offered.

Anora looked between her father and Teagan, who levelled dark glances at each other.  Her father was not subtle in his dislike for the arrangement.  He agreed because Anora had admitted to the soundness of it.  And when his life had been threatened by Alistair, Daphne saved him, recruiting him to the Wardens instead.   Loghain disliked feeling beholden to anyone.  It took some time before he could admit to Anora that as much as he might dislike the Guerrins vying for the throne, marrying Teagan had some merit.  He trusted Daphne’s judgement at least.   After all, it was not unheard of for unmarried men to take their brothers widows, and though a marriage to Teagan was unexpected and perhaps somewhat strange, it was not so dissimilar from the idea to wed Alistair.  It didn’t make her father behave any better in Teagan’s presence however.  And Teagan had not forgotten, or forgiven her father’s behavior, his part in Cailan’s death and the threat to Eamon’s life.

Anora did not want to be in the hall with this tension between them.  She shook her head and looked at her father.

"Actually.  I will deliver it myself.  Then I can join everyone in the war chamber."

Teagan looked at her with clear surprise shining in his blue eyes.  Not blue like Cailan’s, but they were far too close for comfort.  She nodded at him with a soft smile she hoped looked reassuring.

"I’ll be there shortly."

"Fine," her father said.

"If you’re certain," Teagan said.

"Go on ahead," Anora nodded before walking to the desk. "You won’t even know I’m gone."

The men both nodded and her father left first.  Teagan gave her another look and then followed a moment after.  She hated them both a little for that.  No one _would_ notice she was missing from their war council.  It was her throne that concerned them most, and the line that would inherit it when she was gone.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Teagan lingered just inside the castle doors after his brother and the rest of their party had left.  Anora was with him, and her father, who Teagan did his best to respectfully ignore.  Instead, he smiled at his bride-to-be and reached out for her hands.  It was the way they’d said goodbye for years, after each dinner or gathering they had shared when Cailan had been alive.  It was the way he’d greeted her at her wedding to his nephew and the both of them fell into the greeting with remembered softness.  He squeezed her fingers and laid his cheek next to hers with a kiss meant more for the air than her skin.  

"Be safe," Anora whispered in his ear.  "We’ll see you again soon."

There was so much weight to that goodbye.  He admired the strength of his Queen, wearing impassive etiquette into her features, rarely betraying the emotions he knew lay beyond.  She was strong, and brave, and she did not need him at all.  In fact, Teagan had no doubt the country would be in fine hands were it in her hands alone.  It was her father he doubted, no matter what the Warden said of the man’s future.

Loghain cleared his throat, and Teagan stepped away from Anora with a smile.  "We’ll return as quickly as we can."  He squeezed her fingers once more.  "Be well, Anora."

"Maker go with you, Bann Teagan."

Teagan bristled a little with the formality in her tone.  He nodded, still smiling, before he exited the palace to join his brother and the others.  

Despite his brother’s protests, the Warden was allowing Loghain to stay at the palace despite his new oath to the Grey Wardens.  She said there would be time enough for him to join when they returned, that it was enough for now that he’d made his oath to the Wardens.  She believed him capable of protecting the palace, and Anora, in their absence.  Neither he or Eamon agreed, but to Teagan’s surprise, Eamon seemed willing to defer to the young Cousland woman.  

Alistair had joined forces with the young woman after Ostagar had fallen, and in turn, Daphne had taken the reigns of leadership for both the Wardens and her strange but dedicated companions.  Teagan wasn’t sure how she did it.  How she had become so capable of holding everything together after all they’d survived already.  She come to Redcliffe after Cailan's death at Ostagar, and though she’d arrived at the worst time for his brother’s city, she’d saved them all.  Teagan still had nightmares of the demon that had terrorized his young nephew, Connor.  But to talk to her, to hear her tell the story, there was no glory in it.  All the things they had done were just the things that needed doing.  It seemed trouble had befallen Alistair, the Warden, and their friends at every turn, including the circumstances that brought them to Redcliffe.   Yet for each trouble they’d overcome, the Warden's company seemed stronger and more resolute.

Daphne’s decision to take on Loghain was one of countless difficult choices the Warden had been forced to make.  None of them, save the Warden, seemed certain they were the right choices.  Teagan had seen the way Alistair had rejected the throne, and then the oath of the Grey Wardens he claimed to love.  It was clear his nephew had been unprepared for the leadership of the Wardens, and Daphne Cousland had flourished instead.  Her eyes held the clear spark of wisdom Teagan had seen in her mother, Eleanor, many times.  She came from wise, brave heritage, and though she was bearing the weight of her upbringing sooner rather than later, Daphne had excelled at the task.  She said it was the strategist in Loghain the Wardens needed.  All those with her, save Alistair, seemed to accept that.  Even from Teagan’s perspective, distrusting Loghain and his fear as he did, saw the stupidity of his nephew’s decision to leave.

As Teagan exited the palace gates, The Warden smiled at him.  She turned away without a word, and motioned to engage their travelling party forward before striking out into the lead.  Her companions fell in around her, the young red-headed bard close on her heels, speaking quietly something as they walked away.  

Once, a very long time ago now, Eamon had suggested for Teagan to petition Bryce Cousland for the hand of his daughter.  He’d thought her too young for him and imagined a life full of arguments and unhappiness.  Now, he had a very clear picture of what that arrangement could have looked like.  He’d mistaken her youth for a lack of wisdom, and he could see that clearly now.  Teagan could not imagine a woman like her would’ve thought twice about him as suitor anyhow.  But after Alistair had left it had been the Warden’s idea for Teagan and Anora to consider an engagement.  Whatever she had said to Anora in the intervening days, seemed to have softened the Queen’s regard of him, awkward though it still was.  There was no use regretting his easy dismissal of Daphne before, as a warrior or a wife, and he would not make the same mistake twice.  Nor could he afford to make that mistake with Anora.

Teagan took his horse’s reins from Eamon and swung up into his saddle.  His brother didn’t smile, or look at him. And his voice was gruff when he asked, "Do you think they will plot against us while we’re gone?"

"Possible," Teagan said with a shrug.  He turned his horse in line with Eamon’s and clicked to nudge it into line with the Warden’s party.  "It seems unlike Anora to do so after she’s agreed to and signed the pledge.  And with Howe dead, who would consort with Loghain?"  He shook his head and looked at Eamon.  "Now that he’s taken their oath?  I would think it very unwise to cross our friend and those with her."

At that, his brother laughed.  "You may be right there.  I’m living proof of what she’s capable of."

"And what Loghain is capable of, should he set his mind to it again."

"We’ll have to hope she remembers that too," Eamon said.

They rode for a while, in silence, ghosting the sides of the road behind Daphne’s party.  The Warden wouldn’t go with them all the way to Redcliffe, but until their paths diverged, Teagan and his brother took up behind them.  As soon as they could, the Warden’s party would return to Redcliffe in order for all of them to return to Denerim at the same time, bringing all of their forces together with the Queen’s.  Only Alistair was missing now, replaced in spirit by Loghain, who had stayed behind.  

After Alistair’s fit at the Landsmeet Eamon sent men out after him hoping to find where he’d run.  Eamon and Teagan both expected for Alistair to be found at the Guerrin estate in Denerim, but he was not.  He was not at the Gnawed Noble or the Pearl, or the chantry, and beyond those few places, he could’ve been anywhere with the head start he’d gained on them.  With other more pressing matters at hand, Eamon had released two of his men to search for their nephew. Surprisingly messages all returned without word of Alistair.  Perhaps it would be best if their nephew wasn’t in Denerim when they returned.  In the time it would take them to return with all of their forces, there was no knowing how far the Blight would’ve crept north.  And Alistair, as long as he remained, would be a continued threat to Anora’s reign and Teagan’s marriage to her.  For many reasons, Alistair’s would be the safest far away from Ferelden.

Once the city was miles behind them, Eamon slowed his horse to pace Teagan’s.  There was a calculating look in his Eamon’s eyes, matched by his drawn lips and the lines in his forehead.  Knowing the look as well as he knew his own name, Teagan braced inwardly for whatever conversation his brother was about to broach.  

In another hour or more they would need to stop to rest, and it would be nightfall before they would break off from the Warden’s party to ride for Redcliffe.  If the Warden noticed when their horses drew together, Daphne said nothing, though the young Cousland turned to eye them curiously.  Teagan smiled at her too, because in the cold and under their current circumstances, there was little else he could do.  Smile and listen to his brother.  Smile and listen to the Warden.

Smile and fight the darkspawn.  

Smile and marry Anora.  

By way of greeting his brother nodded, attempted a smile and said, "About Alistair."

"What about him?"

"I’ve been thinking," Eamon said.  Which was no great surprise, though Teagan nodded and made a soft sound of interest as though it were a revelation.  He had been doing the same, after all.  He looked expectantly for Eamon to reveal whatever plan he had concocted in the last few hours on the road.

"I think, once he’s found and returned home, that perhaps we could find a place for him.  Someplace out of the way, where he might have some land, learn responsibility..."

Teagan nodded as he knew Eamon expected him too.  He’d perfected a great face for listening to his brother over the years when Eamon got too carried away with his ideas.  

"Perhaps, once all this is over and you and Anora are properly married, Alistair could take over Rainesfere."

There was a fist sized weight on his chest and Teagan found it hard to breathe.  He was grateful for the steadiness of his horse beneath him as he found himself staring at Eamon and momentarily unable to do anything else.  

Rainesfere was his home.  Teagan had worked hard to earn the good reputation he had among his people.  Before it had become his, he'd worked even harder just to be thought worthy of the land.  His entire experience in the Ferelden army had been with Rainesfere in mind.  Of course, at the time he'd also planned that he would be raising his children there by now, grooming them for the time when they would take it for themselves.

Without Rainesfere, he was merely Teagan.  Not yet King Consort and without his part of the bannorn, he didn't know where that would leave him.  Eamon spoke about some potential future, one in which everything went exactly as his brother was planning it.  The Maker was already proving that life was sometimes more out of his brother’s reach than he wished it.  But that wouldn’t stop Eamon from trying.  No, Eamon was rarely discouraged despite all the reasons he had to be.

"Teagan?"

"I’m sorry, Eamon.  I was thinking about the idea."

"Do you have any conclusions?  It’s been on my mind since you and Anora agreed to the marriage.  Placing him in Rainesfere keeps him close, and allows him time to grow into his heritage."

"Of course," Teagan nodded.  

He was still thinking through the implications, knowing he was far behind Eamon and whatever his brother really had in mind for Alistair’s future.  Time had taught him that it was never about just one thing with Eamon.  His brother had a sharp mind for politics like their father before him, but this recent obsession with the throne was more than Teagan had expected.  There was more to it on Eamon’s mind, though Teagan doubted he could get his brother to divulge any more of his plan than he was ready to.  If Eamon was focused on Alistair’s future now, instead of Teagan’s, that was almost enough reason to agree with his plan outright.

"Do you like it?  Do you think he’ll agree?"

"I don’t know, Eamon.  In the last few months we’ve known Alistair as he is now, I know him no better than you do.  We’ve had little opportunity for serious conversation beyond that of the Blight.  I cannot assume to know much about him at all, but he seemed very much against the idea of leadership."  Teagan nodded pointedly at the Warden in near distance.  "Or don’t you imagine that he would still be at her side?"

Eamon frowned and stared at Daphne’s back while she spoke with the Orlesian redhead at her side.  "I still don’t know what to make of that one.  I half expected her to try and lay claim to the throne herself."

"I half expected you to press her into it yourself when Alistair refused," Teagan said sharply.  Not given Eamon a moment to reply, he continued, "... however she seems disinterested in anything other than settling this war."

"I suppose her focus has worked for you," Eamon said.  "Hasn’t it brother?"

Teagan turned away from Eamon before he said something he would regret.  It was not so long ago the Warden had saved Eamon’s life, and he did not want an argument such as this to come between them before the Blight was even ended.  He didn’t think that Eamon was ungrateful, in fact, he was perhaps more motivated than ever.  Eamon would’ve never suggested Alistair as heir to anything before this war.  After being confronted by his own mortality and learning how close he came to losing everything while he’d been sick, family meant more now than it ever had. Even Teagan could agree to that.  He just wished Eamon could temper his ideas with any amount of subtlety or humility.  Both seemed far out of his grasp.

After several moments of listening to Eamon’s labored breaths next to him, Teagan looked back.  "Could we wait; let your men find Alistair first, before we make any decisions?"

His brother was quiet, but his silence must’ve held some agreement because Eamon’s horse drifted to the other side of the road after another moment.  The Warden looked back and nodded at Teagan when she caught his eye.  He smiled back out of habit and patted his horse’s flank to encourage him a little faster.

When his horse slowed down again, he was at Daphne’s side.  "Warden?"

"Bann Teagan?"  She smiled at him, though her jaw was tense and her cheeks and the tips of her ears were red, likely not from exertion by the way Leliana was grinning.

He did his best to pretend he did not notice, addressing the tip of her nose with a neutral smile.  "I was planning to scout ahead.  There’s a place we can rest not far off, and I want to make sure we can rest there undisturbed."

The Warden nodded and Teagan met her eyes briefly to acknowledge her approval.  "Don’t stay away too long," she said, her tone mostly teasing not commanding.

"I’ll be quick as I can."

He took the smile that followed as a sign there was no reason to say anything further.  He turned away from the party and leaned forward, nudging the horse into a canter.  As soon as he broke off, the wind in his face gave him the air he needed to feel momentarily free of all the political machinations of his brother, and the Warden.  Once the party was out of sight behind him he could pretend, for a few moments, that none of that weight was on his shoulders.  It was a temporary freedom as he passed a band of weary and ragged looking travelers on the road.  More Fereldens fleeing as far from the Blight as they could manage.  More reminders that he couldn't escape his duties.  Maybe those families would stop in Denerim hoping for refuge, but the city was filling already and perhaps it wouldn’t be far enough.  They wouldn't care about his marriage to A note, or the lineage on the throne of Ferelden, only their own families, their own safety.  Teagan felt shamed by the near simplicity of his problems.  He kept riding, avoiding the road and hoping for the sake of the bannorn all this political upset would be worth something to them soon.

 


	3. Chapter 3

"Deep breaths," Erlina said.  

Her handmaid’s voice was a ghost across her bare neck, and Anora breathed in deep as Erlina pulled her plaits tight into a leather strap before securing it all at the base of her neck.  She couldn’t nod, but she followed the woman’s direction, sucking in a breath that was meant to calm her.  

It didn’t.

Anora knew how to fight.  She had practiced with a sword for years, sparring with Cailan when they were younger and had all the time in the world to spend together.  Preparing for a true battle, indeed, a war... she had never done that.  She had never needed to.  Since word had come home with her father from Ostagar that the darkspawn had arrived on Ferelden’s borders and had taken away her husband, Anora had feared this day would come.  She knew how to fight, but she’d never been a soldier.

"I know how to breathe, Erlina," she said a bit too sharply.  

"Yes of course, your Majesty."  Erlina looked at her in the mirror and Anora turned away.  There was no judgement in her handmaid’s face, but concern was written all over it.  Anora didn’t need her concern.  She needed...

She didn’t know what she needed, but there was enough fear and worry churning in her stomach for the both of them, and more.  Being Queen meant not having to apologize for her sharp tongue, but for Erlina, her one confidant, she found a place of calm and looked back into the mirror to meet the woman’s gaze.  

A small crooked smile graced her lips and she said, "Thank you for the reminder."

The elven woman bowed her head and looked away without comment, taking the unspoken apology in her thanks.  Anora’s eyes swept over her own face then, taking in the angles of her features pulled tight by her hair as Erlina finished pinning it down.  Her eyes were tinged darker by worry evident in the lines at their edges, and the strong set of her jaw and her pale lips.  She would wear nothing on her face today, not when she would spend it in armor.  

Her father had already joined the Warden and the others in their preparations, and without him, Anora was left to marshal the troops of Denerim with Cauthrien at her side.  The soldier had been with her father for close to half of Anora’s life, but she could not go with the Warden.  Ser Cauthrien had her own duty, to lead the troops into the field while Anora stayed behind.  Were she not Queen, perhaps her choices would be different today, perhaps she would be free to lead the troops through the streets of Denerim to battle the darkspawn as her husband had led them in Ostagar.  Only, if any of the choices of her life had been her own, she wouldn’t need to consider leading any troops at all.

Not that she wasn’t proud to fight for her country.  She was.  But Anora had not promised to dedicate herself to it the way her father had.  Her job was here, in the castle, making sure when this was over, the city not only would rebuild itself, but that it could.

Silence settled into Anora’s skin, still and cold.  Rousing from her thoughts, she looked back to find Erlina across the room, unbuckling her armor from its stand.  It was a perfect match to Cailan’s armor in color and design.  Only her husband’s breastplate had been crested and hers was not.  The design of her breastplate was more form than function, despite its lack of decoration.  Cailan had worn his armor at every opportunity, keeping young squires busy polishing out each bit of dirt or food he managed to collect on it.  Anora’s armor had only been worn a handful of times, but never as she was about to.

"I’m ready," she said as she stood, more to herself than Erlina.

The woman pointed to the garments laid out on her bed, leather breeches and a tunic with laces just at the neck.  She slipped out of her shift and tossed it gently on the bed.  She waved off Erlina when she stepped forward to help, easily pulling on the clothes on her own, despite how little she wore them.  When she was ready, Erlina looked her over, tightening laces where needed.  She nodded her approval before stepping away and opening Anora’s chamber doors just enough to show her face.

Ser Cauthrien entered behind her when she pulled back into the room.  "Your Majesty," Cauthrien greeted.

"I would not have bothered you with this..." Anora began.

Erlina spoke over her, "Ser Cauthrien has come to make sure your armor is properly fitted before she escorts you to the troops."

Cauthrien nodded and Anora gave Erlina a measured look.  Time had made her handmaiden a wise woman, but it had been Anora’s allowances that had made her well and boldly spoken.  At times she appreciated it, but Anora very much disliked feeling as though she was being coddled.  Having to inwardly acknowledge that she wanted to be presentable before the troops, Anora nodded, tight-lipped.  

The woman moved swiftly, removing each piece of her armor, both chainmaille and plate, from the stands and helping her into them.  When the three of them were finished, she was clad in far too much gold for her liking and weighed down by metal at everywhere but her head.

"Thank you," she said when Erlina handed her the sword her father had crafted for her.  Her initials were carved into the pommel and she could barely feel the imprint of them through the leather on the palm of her hand.  

Anora turned to the woman-knight who was now the general of Denerim’s forces.  "Ser Cauthrien, I believe I am ready."

"Yes, your majesty."  She bowed her head and exited the room, Anora quick on her heels.  

At the end of the hall she found Teagan, looking as though he was guarding the hall rather than waiting for her.  He smiled to greet her, though it was not as warm as she usually found him.  She nodded at him but did not smile in return.  

The Guerrin brothers and their armies had returned from the south just days before.  There had been little chance for she and Teagan to speak outside the few war councils called by the Warden or suggested by Anora herself. She and Daphne had spoken a few times outside those meetings, and though the situation was hardly one for celebration, Anora considered it a personal victory that this war would be led by two women and none of the men in the room.  They would attack when she and the Warden agreed it was time, and no sooner.  The people of Denerim were already camped inside the palace walls, and the darkspawn ravaged her city, but they had waited for today, when the archdemon had been spotted above the city.

Whatever would happen between her and Teagan could wait until after the darkspawn were removed from Denerim, and Anora had made no plans to speak to him about anything else until then.  Having him waiting in the hall, was a surprise, but she hid it well with a turn to Cauthrien.

"Give us a moment, Ser?"

"Yes, your majesty."  Cauthrien nodded and kept walking past Bann Teagan, giving him little notice as she did.  She stopped at the other side of the room and looked away.

"Bann Teagan."

His smile faded and Anora lifted her brows, the rest of her expression taut and controlled.  Teagan took the few steps between them, the sound of his armor echoing off the stone walls as he approached.

"Good morning, your majesty," he greeted.  His words were formal and stiff, but there were lines around his eyes and she steeled herself for bad news from the city.  Instead he said, "I’d hoped to escort you to the field.  I’m sure Ser Cauthrien has other preparations to make and... it might be good for us to be seen together.  For morale."

Anora’s jaw tensed as she considered his words.  They had announced their betrothal, and being seen together would be seen as a sign of strength between the bannorn and the Queen.  He was a beloved Bann and while she believed the people loved their Queen, she was not one of them, nor did she give the appearance to be.  Cailan had been the face and the heart of the palace and Anora had been its mind.  She hadn’t minded that arrangement until recently, hadn’t needed to consider it anything other than necessary.  

"I can speak to my people, Teagan."

"I wasn’t suggesting otherwise."  Teagan gave her a soft smile and she watched him take in a deep breath.  "They need the word of their Queen before they charge into battle for her.  As do I."

She let out a measured breath.  Warmth flooded her belly, and her heart pounded at the weight of it all.  She felt her hands shake and she clasped them together in front of her.  When she’d signed their marriage agreement she had not been sure she wanted to Teagan to live through this war.  Now, she wasn’t sure she wanted him to fight at all. Whatever happened to Teagan today would change her future.  He didn’t have to go, didn’t have to fight but he would.  

There was something endearing about his bravery.  A memory of a much younger Teagan in the palace training yard with the other soldiers came to her mind.  She’d been too young to be worthy of his notice, but he hadn’t been beyond hers.  She’d watched him fight from beyond the fence, and wished that she hadn’t been betrothed to Cailan already.  It was a frivolous thought, the desires of a young girl, not a noble woman, not a future Queen.  Teagan was no less admirable in form and feature now, and it still surprised her to think they might be married soon.  She could admire him if there was not her throne, her dead husband, her father, and an entire country in her hands to consider.  She wanted to believe that he would fight for her city, their country, and just maybe... for her.  

"Ser Cauthrien!"  Anora stepped to the side to peer around Teagan.  "Please go ahead to your men.  Bann Teagan will see me to the field."

The woman nodded sharply and exited the room, leaving them alone.  Teagan straightened and gave her a similar nod, his brightened by the smile in his eyes.  "Thank you, Anora."

"Don’t thank me yet.  You still have to live through this."

"Do I?"

Anora flushed; she blew out a sharp breath and squared her shoulders to face him.  "Yes."  She stared at him, her heart pounding so hard she could hear the rush of it in her ears.  Forcing her breathing to steady she lifted her chin and found a smile came to her lips easily.  "Now, escort me to the field, Teagan.  I would not make the men wait longer than necessary."

"As you command," he said, returning her smile, "my Queen."

 


	4. Chapter 4

Anora fidgeted, waiting for updates as calmly as she knew how.  She'd sent the men into battle with her heart pounding in her throat and whatever speech she had made was forgotten as soon as her feet touched the stone floor of the castle once more.  Even inside and far from the battle, the sounds of battle were still audible through the thick stone walls.  There was nowhere to go where the booming sounds of the darkspawn and the roar of the archdemon could not be heard.  The war drums of her own armies were just as loud, but if they faltered even for a moment, her heart dropped to her stomach and she didn't breathe until the next beat came.  It wasn’t the same as being in the fray, or even on the field, but her concern was for all her people, not just the few she knew by name.

Teagan had been at her side until Daphne had made her assignments and chosen to take Loghain into the fray at her side.  If it was revenge, her father didn't seem bothered by it.  In fact, he seemed more relaxed than he had in a long time.  When they'd said their goodbyes, Teagan had stepped aside to give them as much privacy as he could.  Her father had never been an overly affectionate man, but he'd hugged her tight as armor allowed and kissed her cheek.  Only years of practice had kept the tears at bay when he turned to follow Daphne into the city.

And when her father was gone, she was left with Teagan at her side, for a few more moments.  Eamon waited nearby, but he would not venture into battle still somewhat weak even months after waking up from his cursed sleep.  He waited for Teagan to lead their men towards the gates so the Warden could make her march towards Fort Drakon.  But Teagan’s eyes were for Anora only, and he stepped up where her father had been moments before.  

"Whatever happens," Teagan said, "I want to thank you, Anora."

"For what exactly?"

"Giving me a chance.  I know we were friendly once, but it-- this cannot be easy.  It may not be what you wanted, but you’ve promised to try and I thank you for that."  Teagan had smiled then and her stomach had fluttered like a young girl's to be on the receiving end of such a smile.  

"No need for thanks," she said.

"You may not want them, but you deserve them.  We both know you are in an impossible position, Anora.  If I return... "

"When," Anora corrected him sharply.  It was a recent, split-second decision, but she’d decided she wanted him to return.  It felt good to remind him, even if it came too quick and too harsh to her tongue.

He huffed, but his smile didn't fade.  "Just so." Teagan nodded.

With all of the people and noise around them, Teagan had to step closer to be heard, and were it not for the armor between them, she could have taken his hand in hers as close as they were.  

"Clear the way for the Warden and return, Teagan."

He nodded and his smile faltered but so slightly she nearly missed it.  His lips opened and she found her heart pounding faster wondering what he would say next.  There was something heavy in his gaze, something purposeful and even now, she didn’t know why it had scared her.  

"A kiss," Teagan said softly, "for luck."  He leaned in and pressed his lips to her cheek, resting his armored hand against her arm.

Anora had no breath to comment in return when Teagan stepped away, and he didn’t wait for a response.  If the luck had been for him, she’d done a poor job of giving it but she suspected that he meant the luck for her.  Later, she planned to ask him.  

When he returned.

From her room in the palace she could see the archdemon flying over Fort Drakon across the city.  He looped around the tower and breathed down at a crowd below.  She could not tell if his fiery breath reached the ground below the tower, nor could she tell the shouts of those men apart from any of the others.  No one had seen a dragon in years, and when this was over, she hoped to never have reason to see one again.  Already she knew her dreams would be haunted by the sight of this one for the rest of her years.

She paced near the windows, alternating between looking out for the archdemon or for the Warden, and walking a path from window to window on either side of her bed.  Whatever was happening on the field was beyond her knowledge and it hadn't been safe for messengers for several hours.  What she could see of the city beyond the gates was broken and burning.  Anora had never thought she could ache like she did, for her city and her people, for her deceased husband and for the husband she had yet to marry.  

It was easy to lose track of time in her march around her room, waiting for any messengers to finally make it back, or for a signal that this war had reached an end.  She didn’t know how long she waited, but she’d turned away both her morning and afternoon meals.  Sometime after her tray was taken away, Erlina brought her tea which she attempted to drink to calm her stomach.  It did nothing for her nerves, and on an empty stomach it made her more nauseous than she’d been before.  

Anora didn’t know how long it was after she’d set her tea aside, but there was finally something out the windows worth seeing.  Across the city she watched the dragon alight on the top of Fort Drakon and there were fires and lights and while she couldn’t see exactly what was happening, it was something.  The fight, she assumed it was, seemed to go on forever.  A horn sounded several times, each time the archdemon moved and breathed and there were screams that reached all the way to Anora's ears.

Finally, finall, after an eternity of clenched fiats and held breatha, a bright light split the sky.  Something flew into the air above the dragon, then both it and the archdemon fell on the other side of the fort’s battlements where she could not see them.  

The light faded and Anora felt a buzz of energy throughout her body, excitement or fear, or both and it was overwhelming.  She fled from her room and ran for the first time since she’d been a child, through the halls of the palace, making her way towards the front gates.  She demanded to be let out, pointing at the sky as she did and the guards had no reason to do anything other than obey her command.

There were still darkspawn in sight, but they were few and there were men and women, dwarves and elves fighting the contingent that were left.  It felt like their combined forces were finally more than the darkspawn’s, and optimistically she waited just beyond the gates, guards on either side of her, for the Warden or Teagan, or Cauthrien-- someone, anyone-- to return.

The light from the top of Fort Drakon was gone for several long minutes before anyone came back to the palace.  A few soldiers arrived one at a time at first, wounded and straggling in from different parts of the city.  Anora called for the healers, expecting them to come while she stayed at the gates.  Ser Cauthrien led a large contingent of soldiers up to the gates and Anora greeted her with an uncharacteristic bright smile.  She didn’t care how she looked, or how long she waited, there had never been a day like this in her lifetime  The stories her father told about the siege they laid against the Orlesians was merely a bedtime story to the other children in Ferelden by the time she was old enough to remember it.  To hear her father tell the story, the Orlesians had only been beaten back a year ago, not thirty.  

And here she was, thirty years later, welcoming her army home from another war.  One that had taken its toll on her city but from all appearances, as the soldiers carried themselves passed the gates, was over.

Cauthrien gave her updates as best she knew them, but they’d followed after the Warden only so far and beyond that, she did not know more.  Only that the dragon had fallen to the top of Fort Drakon and had not come down.  The templars the Warden had taken with her, had returned and Cauthrien pointed them out across the open city square.  The small group of templars struggled, some stumbling and others providing arms and shoulders to bear another's weight in order to reach the Chantry.  

Anora nodded.  

"And my father?  Bann Teagan?" she asked, keeping her voice level as best she could.

"I’m sorry, your majesty, I have not seen them."  Cauthrien hesitated, looking past her at the soldiers in the yard.  When she looked back at Anora she asked, "Would you like me to go look for them?  I could take a few soldiers..."

"No, Ser Cauthrien.  Thank you, but we’ll give them a bit more time.  See to your men and if I need you, I’ll call for you.  Please, go rest."

"Yes, your majesty."  Cauthrien bowed and was out of Anora’s sight a moment later.

She waited for another small eternity before she saw them all at once.  Bann Teagan returning with the men of Redcliffe, Daphne returning with her companions and leading a slightly smaller band of dwarves and elves than she had left with.  The surprising joy she felt at seeing Teagan safe and returned passed quickly into concern when her eyes scanned the group but her father was nowhere among them.  The group that approached her was somber, Daphne and the chantry woman, Leliana, with Teagan following and then in the distance, the Qunari man carrying the body of another in his arms.  The blue and gray uniform had was a new addition, but there was no question in her mind who wore it.

Anora shook her head at the Warden, already hoping that there was a better explanation than the one that was pounding painfully inside of her chest.  Tears stung her eyes and she closed them for several breaths, willing the tears not to fall.  She was successful for the few moments she met Daphne’s eyes, and avoided the sight of Teagan, or her father’s body in the arms of the Qunari.

After swallowing, and a breath, and forcing her chin to tense she focused on the Warden’s green eyes and demanded, "Tell me what happened."

"I can recount everything for you, your majesty."  Daphne lifted her arm towards the gates.  "Perhaps once we’re inside."

Defiance strained at her skin, threatening an explosion of emotion until she heard the truth.  There was hope until she knew the truth, and while she wanted it, she didn’t know how long she would last with... or without it.

"I’m very sorry, Anora.  Teryn Log-- your father," the Warden’s voice softened and she rested a hand on Anora’s arm.  Her hand was armored and heavy, but Anora did not shrug her arm away.  "Your father, wanted you to know that he loved you very much, but that this... was his decision.  To defeat an archdemon, to truly defeat one, a Warden is required to give up their life."

Anora started, sucking in a breath as if to speak in denial of her father’s wishes.  Daphne shook her head, stilling her.

"This was what he wanted.  What he always wanted-- to honor Ferelden, and you, the best way he knew how."  She lifted her arm from Anora’s and gave a small shake of her head.  "He loved you very much.  I am truly sorry."  There were tears in the Wardens eyes but she did not cry as she spoke, and her voice had not wavered.  She had known this was the price and she had gone into the fight preparing to pay it.  Anora's father had used his life to save hers.

Anora struggled to speak.  Her throat was dry and full of unspoken words until she and finally pushed out a soft "thank you".

The Warden took her leave a few moments later, everyone but Teagan following her into the palace yard.  All Anora could do was stare down at the place on her sleeve where the Warden’s hand had rested, and wonder what she would do now.  There were tears now, hot on her face and then cooling as they slid down her cheeks.  A sob was trapped in her chest and it wasn't just the smoke in the air that made it hard for her to breathe.

"Anora," Teagan's voice was low and very close.  "Let's go inside."

She nodded silently and allowed Teagan to guide her back through the palace gates.  Erlina was waiting for her, but Teagan insisted he escort her to her rooms, fussing over her when they arrived and sending Erlina for tea.

After nudging her into a chair by the hearth, Teagan knelt before her.

"I'll see to things this afternoon.  And I'll be just down the hall if you need me."

She'd never felt so empty in her entire life, or her mind so quiet.  There was too much sorrow to allow other thoughts, and she barely noticed when Teagan left her room.

It had been dark for hours by the time Anora felt like getting up, her body protesting her lack of food and stiff joints after sitting so long.  Erlina had left a tray of fruit and biscuits next to her tea.  It was all room temperature, but she finished it all anyway.  She left her room without purpose, only feeling the need to walk and be out of her room.  She hated the weakness she felt, the loss, and the quiet in her head.  She tried to forbid herself from giving into it.  She'd lost both Cailan and her father to the darkspawn.  They were gone; Anora resolved to give them nothing else.

The palace was quiet.  Anora didn't know what the hour was, but the lights were low, telling her it was at least long after dinner.  Her feet carried her to Teagan's room without conscious thought.  His door was open and she found him sitting quietly in front of the fire, his sword over his knees and a polishing cloth in his hands.

"Your majesty?" He asked, setting the sword aside as he stood.

She said nothing, but gave him a soft smile as she approached.  The light from the fire was like a halo around him, burnishing his hair into gold waves.  He looked younger somehow, parts of his face cast in shadow, the rest bright with firelight.  He gave her a warm, concerned smile and lifted a hand to her.  It was easy to go to him, and Anora found comfort against him as he embraced her.

Teagan held her tight for several long moments before pulling her down onto the bench at the foot of his bed.  Neither of them spoke, but he kissed her forehead lightly and she laid her head on his shoulder.  Anora stared at the fire for a time.  Slowly and then without intention, she closed her eyes and fell asleep.

 


	5. Chapter 5

Restless, Teagan paced on the length of carpet that ran between the great hall and the throne room.  He remembered briefly standing nearby, just outside the wide double doors to the great hall, fewer than seven years ago when his nephew Cailan had waited for his bride to arrive.  It was a strange memory and difficult to recall without a confusing mix of emotions.  Cailan had been a happy, eager lad before his marriage to Anora, and he'd faced the day with a relaxed air and easy charm.  But his nephew had also been nervous, as unprepared for a wife as he had been for a kingdom when his father had gone.  

Now, Teagan stood in the same hall for the same purpose awaiting the same bride.  It was as thrilling as it was surreal.  

Since the Blight had ended, all of Denerim and most of the bannorn south of the city, had been in great need of attention.  Perceiving their biggest threat after the archdemon to be not monsters, but famine and poverty, Anora had allowed Teagan to help rally their people.  They had announced their wedding the week after the Blight had been declared ended by Warden Cousland, but it was almost a year before either of them was willing to serve the ceremony of such an occasion.  Teagan had split his time after Loghain’s funeral between Rainesfere, Denerim and the bannorn.  His time at home had been only for setting the affairs of his own bannorn under the watchful eye of his seneschal until a more suitable replacement was found.  His time between home and the capitol, he spent helping and serving the people of Ferelden.  He helped rebuild where he could, delivered food and news where it was needed, settled disputes and announced new leaders to help restore order.  

Teagan had spent less time in Denerim than he would’ve liked after the announcement of his and Anora’s betrothal, but what time he had with Anora, he treasured.  In the years since Cailan had taken the throne, the Guerrins had only spent time in Denerim when necessary for bannorn business.  Teagan had split holidays between Redcliffe with his brother’s family, and Denerim where he could be a Guerrin presence for his nephew.  He and Cailan had taken whatever opportunities they could to stay in touch between those visits.  As is the way when people are taken too soon from their loved ones, Teagan wished his visits had been longer, or more frequent.

It was strange to be marrying the widowed wife of his nephew, and yet somehow in the time since the idea had first been proposed to them, Teagan and Anora had drawn closer than expected.  He offered a shoulder of support for the Queen while they made funeral preparations for her father, and attended the services at the Chantry.  They made arrangements for their marriage ceremony together with the Grand Cleric.  Together they greeted the Warden, and other surviving nobles of Ferelden, as Queen and King Consort.  

It was easy to find a smile for Anora, despite everything that had led to their decision.  She smiled for him too, though less often.  She confided in him too, which he took as a greater treasure than her smile when he knew it was all she had to offer some days.  It was not the passionate love affair that many assumed it to be when they saw them walking, or talking close at hand, but it was kind and it felt easy.  

It was not the kind of relationship he’d expected to find with Anora, if he’d known at all what to expect in the first place.

"Brother!" Eamon’s voice boomed, catching Teagan by surprise.  He looked up from his absent-minded thoughts directed at the movement of his boots, and found his brother standing at the entrance to the throne room.  

"Greetings, Eamon," Teagan said, walking to gather his brother in a quick hug.  "It’s good to see you."

"As if I would miss the sight of you getting married."  Eamon tsked and shook his head with a bright grin.  "And to be King as well!"

"Consort-"

"Well, that’s just a title, and little different besides."

"There’s a great diff-"

Eamon clapped Teagan on the back, interrupting him as Teagan pitched forward.  "You should see Isolde, Teagan.  She’s beside herself with excitement."

"And Connor?  Were you able to-"

His brother’s smile faded somewhat and he shook his head.  "No, they wouldn’t give him leave for this.  Not after everything... not even for a royal wedding."

"I’m sorry."

"As am I."  Eamon smiled wanly with his words, a poor facade for his feelings; Teagan put a hand on his brother’s shoulder.  

"I’m sure your wife will regale him with all the details.  He’ll wish he never heard of a royal wedding when she’s done, I’m sure."

Eamon chuckled softly and squared his shoulders, lifting his gaze to Teagan’s.  "Let us talk of better things, brother.  Tell me, have you spoken to Anora about Rainesfere?  I know you were there not long ago."

Shaking his head, Teagan said, "Alas, no.  All our time has been well-occupied and I have not had the time.  Besides even when today is over, no one needs to fill my place just yet.  I have been taking care of all of my responsibilities here."

"But Alistair--"

"Is in Kirkwall and unwilling to come home yet.  The wedding would not help matters, I imagine."

"I will bring him home," Eamon rumbled.  

"He will come when he’s ready, and not before.  You know that, Eamon."  Teagan shook his head again and gave his brother a teasing smile.  "I will speak with my wife when the time is right, and Alistair is more amenable to Ferelden."

Eamon huffed, preparing to speak and Teagan held up a hand to stop him.  

"Until then, it’s in fine hands, brother.  When the wedding is over, take Isolde home, rest, and see if you and Isolde can’t work on my next little nephew... or niece.  When I have more, you’ll hear from me."  He smiled and patted Eamon’s shoulder.  "Now, I believe we came here for a wedding?"

It was clear Eamon wanted to talk more on the matter of Rainesfere, but it was not the time, or the place to argue with his brother.  He was grateful to be able to push the rest of the conversation off with the advent of his wedding.  His smile brightened as he walked his brother through the double doors to the waiting party of friends inside the throne room.  He had greeted many of them already, but managed a few smiles and pleasant greetings before the Grand Cleric signaled him to the dais.

The old woman stood on the dais stairs, Chantry sisters on each side of her with incense and prayer books, the Warden and Leliana stood to one side dressed in Orlesian finery and not far from the front the rest of the Warden’s friends, save Alistair, stood in attendance with the rest of the nobles and invitees.  Teagan couldn’t keep out the memory of the last royal wedding: Cailan clad in gold armor and Anora in a long, trailing golden gown.  Maric had been there, crown resting on his head at an angle as he whispered to Loghain, and both of them dabbing at their eyes like a couple of old ladies.  Teagan had never missed his sister more in that moment, watching her only son get married.  

As he walked to the dais to take his place next to the Grand Cleric, Teagan wondered what his sister would think of this wedding.  Would she have boxed his ears for even considering such an arrangement?  Would she have demanded a different ceremony, a simpler one, a private one?  No amount of wishing it were true, could’ve brought Rowan back over the years (and there’d been many times he’d wanted it badly).  Yet if he could’ve ever asked her a single question, he thought this might be it.  Wherever she was, he still wished for her approval, or at the very least, her love.

His place on the stairs was marked by flowers, and he was still gone with his thoughts by the time he reached it.  There was nothing to do but wait now.  Wait... and pray that marrying Anora was the right decision.  

The lightness in his heart, the giddy excitement was gone now, replaced by doubt and worry as he looked out at his friends, and peers.  He’d heard in his travels across the bannorn, some of the judgement of his and Anora’s betrothal.  More than once, he’d heard the rumor that he and Anora must have carried on some illicit affair under Cailan’s nose, for the wedding to have been announced so quickly.  He almost preferred that rumor, to the sneers he heard in other voices, people assuming it was all for show, that it was political, or worse-- that he and his brother were only after Anora’s throne and the Queen herself would soon be dead.  Maybe today could prove them different.  But as the moment drew closer he felt dread and uncertainty creeping under his skin.

There were hired musicians on both sides of the room playing soft music.  Daphne’s red-headed bardic friend sang along, some song Teagan didn’t recognize.  When she stopped the music swelled, drawing Teagan’s attention to the doors in the distance.  Anora stood at the entrance wearing a gown of red and gold, trimmed in white.  In her hands she carried a bunch of wildflowers wrapped with a dark ribbon.  Her hair was down over her shoulders, kept in place by a few plaits that had been pinned back.  There were flowers stuck into her hair that matched the ones in her hands.  Teagan was speechless as he realized what she’d done.

In their planning Anora had said her dress would be a gift to him, "I want it to be something that will show us united.  That our marriage is not just a political alliance."

"People will think so regardless."

She’d smiled then like she smiled now, disarmingly bright and playful with a secret behind her eyes.  Only he was in on her game this time, as she walked toward him in the colors of his home, and family.  The flowers in her hands might as well have been from Rainesfere, they looked so much like the ones that grew along the coast of Lake Calenhad.  As far as he knew Anora had never been there, but she’d made sure to look the part.


	6. Chapter 6

Everyone demanded some of their time once the ceremony was over.  The reception in the Great Hall was customary, and it was given, but pinning Teagan to a seat would’ve been more successful than putting a meal in front of him in the hopes of keeping him in place.  Anora served her people, she smiled when necessary and spoke in measured, calming tones when a response was required of her.  Her new husband was not like his nephew, but she wondered if their aversion to sitting still was a family trait.  Stealing her glance away from Teagan, she found his brother standing across the hall engaged in some other conversation.  Perhaps it was familial after all, she thought.  She remembered nothing of Rowan, other than being told she’d met the Queen as a child, but from the stories her father had told it was easy to guess that the Guerrin Queen had been just as congenial as her brothers, and her son.

Anora picked at her meal between interruptions from well-wishers.  When the moments were her own, she watched her husband and wondered if he really knew everyone by name as he appeared to.  After she’d emptied a glass of wine, her thoughts turned to the others who had attended, and those who had not.  Her father would’ve disapproved of her dress, she knew.  He would’ve scolded her on many of the concessions she’d made in the name of a happy union, the colors of her dress chief among them.  She could nearly hear his voice, the low rumble of wordless displeasure he seemed to have mastered before she was born.  Her hands wound into fists in her skirts at the memory of such a simple sound.  

Not for the first time since she’d dressed for her wedding, she lifted a finger to her eyes to wipe away a tear.  

"Is everything all right, my dear?"  Teagan asked, resting a hand on her arm before kissing her forehead.  "You look pale."

Anora shook her head.  "Yes, of course," she nodded.  "Just got caught up in the moment."

He walked around to the other side of her and slid into his chair.  Placing his hand on the table over hers, he gave her a soft smile.  

"We can make our goodbyes if you like.  No one would fault the happy couple leaving their reception early."

Anora’s smile came easy as a reflection of the sparkle in his eyes, and the soft, teasing sound of his voice.  Their relationship now was easier after a year of working together, they could speak well with each other, but they didn’t know each other much better now than when they’d agreed to this day.  Even so, it was clear to her Teagan was an intuitive man.  She suspected that was how he made such easy conversation with everyone around him; he seemed to know what they needed-- or what she needed-- without needing to be told.  Even after a year it was difficult not to compare his kind demeanor to Cailan’s who had been outgoing and charming, but often oblivious to those in his company.  

Cailan had waited to leave their own reception until they were forced into their chambers by well-wishers.  And though she’d known that he loved her, she’d been stung by his insistence to leave and rejoin the festivities, instead of staying to rest with her after they’d been together in their marital bed.  

Anora nodded at Teagan and set her napkin aside on the table to free up her other hand.  "I think I’d like that."

"Then that’s what we’ll do."  He grinned and stood, pushing his chair back from the table.  Lifting a full glass of wine, he opened his arms to the crowd beyond their table.  He cleared his throat and somewhere in the crowd, a bell rang and people drew silent, staring up at him and Anora.

"The time has come for our farewells for the evening!"

Anora stood and stepped close to him, lifting her own refilled wineglass. "Thank you, everyone," she said with a smile that she knew didn’t match her husband’s.  

"Stay and revel without us," Teagan said.  "I must entertain my new bride away from all your prying eyes."  

He chuckled when he looked over at her and Anora’s stomach flipped giddily.  Perhaps it had been the wine, but taking Teagan to her bed didn’t seem like a problem when he looked at her like that.  The crowd laughed with him, and cheers broke out through the hall, glasses clinked and Teagan lifted his higher as he looked back to the crowd.  She followed his lead, lifting her glass.

"The Maker’s blessing on all our friends and family.  To you, who have joined us today, and those who could not, you have our thanks.  And our love."  

Anora felt the returning sting of tears as she lifted the wine to her lips with everyone else.  She swallowed and Teagan’s hand was in hers before she’d even set her glass back on the table.  His fingers squeezed hers as he escorted her from the hall.

In the hall down from Anora's chambers, Teagan slowed and let go of her hand.  Breath fluttering, she looked up at him.  He was not so much taller than she was, being tall as she was, but she still had to lift her eyes up to his.  Though her nerves were trembling, she projected calm as she gazed at him, meeting his fading smile with a questioning expression.

"We didn't plan..." He began, waving a hand down the hall.  "We'll be checked on later, but we have time still if you'd like to spend some of it alone."

She did.

And she didn't

"No," she said after a moments consideration.  "I just needed some quiet." She’d never been good at large events, even when it was close friends and family.  Too many people made her anxious and not just from the recent years when Loghain had constantly worried her with his myriad fears.  Her father she knew how to ignore when the mood suited her.  He was rarely talking to her specifically anyway, just near her.  At any event in the castle, things were expected of her and she could not always remain impassive as she had during the reception.  And with the added weight of her emotions, she’d found it difficult to control the tears she hadn’t wanted in the first place.  

Teagan’s excuse to leave had been exactly what she needed.

"You know what I said back there--" he waved a hand back toward the hall they’d come down-- "was for the crowd, right?"  He tilted his head down to meet her eyes and offered her a warm smile.  "If you want to wait, or if anything--"

"Teagan," she said, reaching for his hand, "I’m all right.  Please."

He nodded and his smile brightened as he straightened up.  "Then may I escort you to your chambers?"

She chuckled and wrapped her arm around his, nodding at the hall past her room.  "You know, it’s the King’s chambers where the happy couple is usually found."

"I’m aware."  He walked, smirking at her as she followed along.  "They won’t come for us yet."

Anora felt the knot of sadness that had been sitting in her belly loosen as they took the last steps to her bedroom door.  She was not at all sure that she was prepared to be with Teagan.  Cailan was the only man she’d been with, and with Teagan at ten years her senior, she was certain she was not the first woman for her new husband.  They had talked about what was required of them, during their planning for today’s ceremony.  They both knew the evening had to lead them to his bedchambers, or that it was supposed to.

She was a grown woman, and had been married for more than five years.  There was no reason for her to be nervous about taking a man to her bed, especially one she could now call husband.  That didn’t mean her heart didn’t beat faster at the thought.  In the past year, if Teagan looked at her adoringly, she’d ignored it preferring to believe that it was all part of an act on his part.  If she felt light-headed when he grabbed her hand, or kissed her forehead, she dismissed it.  The few weeks they’d spent together on and off throughout the year had not made an intimate relationship between them, and it was hard for her to tell if what she felt was something borne of necessity and proximity, or actual sincere interest or even love.  

With Cailan, it’d never been a matter of loving him.  When you belonged to someone from such a young age, were friends with them for so long, it had felt like love was a mere byproduct of their situation.  They had nothing else to feel for one another, nothing but love.  The alternative had been hate, and though in his last year Cailan had done a good many things she’d disagreed with, including his dalliances with other women, she’d never come to hate him.  

Did she love, Teagan then?  A racing heart didn’t mean she loved him, nor did the short breaths in her throat or the warmth in her cheeks.  But his kindness and understanding had been beyond measure in the year they’d worked to rebuild their country.  It was more than she’d known of him in the thirty years of her life, but she didn’t think it was the same side of himself that everyone was privy to.  If he was playing the dutiful consort on her behalf, it was an act she’d yet to see through.  She saw the light tinkling in the ocean of his eyes and she didn’t think she loved him, but Maker help her, she wanted to.  People had taken lovers for less reason.  

Anora tugged at his fingers with one hand, and opened her bedroom door with the other, pulling Teagan inside.  Erlina had left Anora’s night clothes on her bed, and at the sight of them, she frowned and rushed forward to push them aside.  

"Your majesty?"  Teagan asked, still standing just inside the room.  His expression was curious, eyebrow raised in question, but his lips quirked up at the corner like he was about to laugh.  

"Close the door, Teagan," Anora said.  "Otherwise, we’ll have no peace."

"Peace for what, my Queen?" he asked, closing the door.

"Just... peace.  A few moments, where we’re out of sight and can--" she turned around, eyes lighting on the fire burning in her room’s hearth.  

Her room was arranged with only one large chair near the fireplace, a bench sat at the end of her bed.  She’d sat on one just like it in the guest room where Teagan had stayed, crying on his shoulder after her father had died.  It was the only place where the two of them could sit comfortably in the room that wasn’t the bed, but she didn’t want to invite those memories back into her mind tonight.

Trying to let her expression hold a conviction of choice she didn’t feel, Anora sat on the bed and looked up at Teagan.  "Sit with me?"

She clutched the skirt of her gown to keep from fidgeting as Teagan crossed the room to her.  It was hard not to watch him, but meeting his eyes was equally difficult.  Her gaze settled somewhere around his shoulders until he stopped too close to her for that to be comfortable.  He sat down, and she could feel the warmth of him almost as strong as she could feel the fire.  The size of him, the closeness of him was comforting even if her breath caught when his arm brushed hers.  Her hair felt tight and heavy where she imagined his gaze to be and when she finally got the courage to raise her gaze to his, she had to school her expression into something dispassionate for fear of what he might see there instead.

His lips were turned up in a soft smile, something small and appraising, but his eyes were searching for hers, his head tilted to better see her.  Everything about her felt wrong when he looked at her now: her heart dropped to her stomach and her body was too warm, too cold, too heavy.  She had to breathe, but she drew it all in at once with her mouth wide and her shoulders raised.  The long curve of his eyebrow lifted in question.

"I’m sorry," she blurted.  "I’m sorry, Teagan.  I’m not sure what I’m doing... what we’re doing"  She shook her head and dropped her gaze, looking instead at her fingers curled into her dress and the new wedding band on her finger.

To her surprise, he didn’t laugh.

Anora watched as Teagan’s hand shadowed hers and his fingers wrapped around the back of it, fingers squeezing gently.  

"It’s strange," he said.  His voice was low and barely more than a whisper.  "It’s been kind of... easy? until now, hasn’t it?  I’ve known you forever, but as this other person."  

He paused and she could almost see him swallowing for another breath before she looked up at him.  She did know but she couldn’t speak or didn’t want to, and she held still as she could, waiting for him to continue.

It was a long moment before he did and she saw his other hand lifting to her face before she heard his voice.  He slid a crooked finger under her chin and lifted her face to find her gaze.

"It was easy to plan, and work, and not think about what came after," he said at last.  "And we cannot pretend we weren’t those other people, Anora.  At least I don’t think we should have to."

Nodding in agreement, she drew her hand out of her skirt and hooked her fingers with his.  "Okay," she whispered.

Teagan smiled.

"If you want to wait," Teagan continued, "we can."

She felt unsteady, wavering as she turned over the idea in her mind again.  And again.  And again, in the same way she’d done since they’d signed that agreement with the Grand Cleric agreeing to this marriage in the first place.  All that time and it hadn’t seemed real until now, like it wasn’t a real decision she would ever have to make to say ‘yes, Teagan, I want you’.  Yet here he was, giving her exactly that choice.

Part of her bristled, straightening her shoulders and lifting her chin to him.  She was the Queen here, she was the one that had been Queen, she should have the say regardless.  But when she looked at him and the soft crinkling around his eyes, stray strands of ginger hair clinging to his forehead, she could see her own nerves reflected.  It wasn’t a choice he offered, because it wasn’t his to offer.  It was an agreement they could make together, as they had everything else to this point.  

"We don’t have to," Anora answered.  "I don’t-- I want--"  She gathered herself up, meeting his gaze squarely.  "We are married, Teagan."  Quieter she added, "Husband."

He smirked and nodded, and she slipped her other hand in his.  After several heartbeats of silence, they met each other’s eyes and drew in a breath.  

"I fear--"

"I want--"

Both of them chuckled as their words ran together.  Teagan nodded his head for her to speak, and though she badly wanted to hear what it was she wanted... her fear sat on the tip of her tongue, fighting for its voice.

Quickly, the words spilling out of her in a rush she said, "I fear that if we decide to wait now, tonight, we will always find ourselves waiting.  I don’t want to be afraid of you, of what we could be."

Teagan let out a breath with a smile.  "I was going to say that I want try this, to make this real, if you do."

"I do."

When he kissed her it was like a spark, hot and cold all at once and he tasted of wine and honey.  She was greedy as she leaned in, pressing her lips hard against his, sliding her tongue over his lips to taste more of him.  Her hands were free a moment later as his arms wrapped around her waist and he pulled her close as their bodies and garments would allow.

Whatever other thoughts she had before he kissed her were gone.  Anora only felt the places where Teagan’s body was against hers, only tasted his lips, only smelled the forest that seemed to cling to him constantly.

Undressing was a complicated matter, one that frustrated them both.  For a moment Anora was certain they would have to stop and she feared that whatever had passed between them would be gone before he could get the laces of her dress undone.  When she felt her garments give, opening up to reveal her back to him, she let out a long sigh of relief and turned into his arms to kiss him eagerly.  His clothes were much easier and between them both, he was relieved of his wedding garments quickly.  Their things were discarded with little care on the floor, or the bench, or the small table on her bedside before her bedcovers received the same treatment.

Anora knew what it was like to be with a man.  In the beginning of their marriage Cailan had even tried to be a generous lover.  But he was greedy, and frustrated easily.  Over time and the longer she went without conceiving, though she loved him, Anora began only to bear his infrequent visits with a smile for the acknowledgement of her duty as wife and Queen.

In all their posturing about arrangements and long conversations about their duties to Ferelden and each other, she and Teagan had never spoken of this moment.  He had kissed her cheeks or her hands many times, but he’d never asked for more.  As Teagan pulled her down to her own bed, his red hair glowing in the candlelight, bare-chested and grinning wickedly, she knew she wouldn’t have wished it otherwise.  There was still much between them that was undetermined, but it all needed constant conversation.  Each other part of their wedding had been a negotiation, and not just between her and Teagan but there were always other people to consider.  Even their wedding night was supposed to be an arranged event of sorts, everyone else expecting things to transpire in a specific way.  

This moment was different than all the others.  It was their moment, chosen because they wanted it.  She went to him, chuckling lightly with the slight giddiness she felt.  His hands wrapped around her and he kissed her breathless.

Teagan said her name as though all its repetitions were a poem in itself, where the quick rumbled mentions or the long drawn out syllables were its rhymes.  Anora’s fingers drew patterns down his chest, connecting scars and freckles into constellations as he rose over her with a hungry smile.  He kissed her often and she held his arms with tight fingers, nails leaving red trails behind them each time she lost her grip.  She was quiet even as her body quivered around him, and his fingers slipped between her thighs, helping her find her climax with his, with the force of his last thrusts.  It was only when they both lay spent on an empty bed, and her chest stopped heaving as she relearned how to draw a steady breath, that she rested her head against the curve of his chest and whispered his name.

 


	7. Chapter 7

Things had been peaceful for months between Anora and Teagan.  Teagan did his best to catch up to Anora’s level of knowledge about the inner workings of the court at Denerim.  He sat through each day at her side, but quietly, allowing her to continue the work she’d been doing well for so long, without Cailan’s help.  His nephew had been charming and eager to please his people, but only a few days with Anora in court proved that it was she, and not Cailan, that kept things running as smoothly as they did.  

Rebuilding the city and supplying aid to the bannorn in the year and a half since the end of the Blight still felt like a neverending task.  Anora handled it with grace, and more patience than he had for such things.  He made himself useful, where and when he could, letting his new wife direct him at the start, to the tasks that could fall to him.  After a few months in his new role, he found the work not easy even pulling on his knowledge from Rainesfere, but more comfortable and with more confidence.

Word from Rainesfere came steadily from his seneschal; his people, being too far west to receive much trouble from the darkspawn, were prospering.  Many fleeing families from the bannorn had found new homes for themselves, and it seemed his small bann had grown.  It had become clear to him, even without his brother’s reminders, that Rainesfere deserved a Bann that was close to them, present and capable.

He’d been married to Anora four months when word came from Eamon that he planned to visit Denerim.  His brother’s letters had been probing and insistent; Eamon directed his brother to become more involved with matters of state, exercising control where he could to prove that he was worthy of his new title and could solidify the Guerrin hold on the throne.  Only, where his brother assumed his marriage to Anora was a cold one, working only for reasons of contract and politics, it was in fact the opposite.  Yes, their marriage had been negotiated and contracted, but there were few noble marriages that weren’t, and after that first night together, they’d found how well they worked together both at court, and in their private chambers.

Teagan was in no rush to meet with his brother, but there was a small comfort in knowing that it was Eamon that would have to come to him and not the other way around.  

In his time since the wedding, Teagan had done little to change the room that had been Cailan’s office.  As much work as he’d done, the room didn’t feel like his and when Anora entered it, he hated the flash of sadness he saw in her eyes.  When he could work elsewhere in the palace, he did, saving the ostentation of what had been his nephew’s office for meetings like this one with Eamon, where he needed the confidence a king’s office could bestow.

"Teagan!" His brother never made a small entrance when he could avoid it.  He strode into the office with his arms lifted and high, passing the guard at the door without being announced.  

"Greetings, Eamon," Teagan said, fighting the habit of being drawn in by Eamon and standing still behind the desk.

His brother stopped briefly, as if testing to see if Teagan would come to him.  His arms sagged a little before he came around the desk to embrace his brother.  

"It is good to see you, brother.  I have news!"

Teagan returned Eamon’s hug and pulled away to look at his brother.  He looked happy, happier than the last few times he’d seen him since the wedding.  Eamon was grinning and he patted Teagan’s shoulders before letting go of him completely.  

"It’s wonderful to see you," Eamon said.  

"It hasn’t been so long since you last visited."

"Yes, but this time I come bearing good news!"

Shaking his head, Teagan chuckled softly.  "Well then, come sit and share your good news, brother."

Teagan led them both to the chairs flanking the hearth across the room where a fire was already crackling.  There was wine already set out on the table between them: Eamon’s favorite.  Before sitting, Teagan poured each of them a glass, shooing away the servant that had stepped forward when he’d reached for the bottle.

He was King-Consort yes, but he’d not spent his years in Rainesfere being coddled into comfortability by a host of servants.  His house had just enough to keep it running, but not so many he didn’t know how to pour a glass of wine for his brother, and wearing a crown wouldn’t change that.  Eamon nodded at him, smile still playing at his lips though Teagan was uncertain if it was still eagerness to share his news, or for Teagan eschewing traditional royal standards.

He handed a glass of wine to his brother before sitting down and by the time he was comfortable in his seat, his brother was nearly beaming.  It looked so strange on him after all this time, after everything that had happened, and he couldn’t remember the last time Eamon looked quite so pleased.  Surely this was news of Alistair; perhaps he’d returned to Ferelden of his own accord, perhaps he’d returned to the Wardens after all.

"All right, Eamon.  Out with it, you’re bursting with whatever it is you have to say."

Eamon didn’t even get the wine to his lips.

"Yes, yes.  More than one bit of news, actually.  Isolde would never forgive me if I didn’t tell you our happiest news first.  I did as you bid before your wedding."  He chuckled.  "You are to be an uncle again!  Before Wintersend, Isolde thinks."

His brother’s eyes danced with the news, and Teagan could understand the happiness there.  There might be time to worry later if their second child would turn out like Connor and require their help and resolve, but it was a long time until then.  

"That is wonderful news, brother."  Teagan took a long drink of his wine, smiling into his wineglass.  

"Thank you." Eamon said with a nod.  He sipped at his own wine, still smiling and watching Teagan.  "We are very blessed.  Connor should know the news by now too..."  his voice wavered slightly, less jubilant, less certain.  "We hope he’ll be pleased by the news."

"Of course he will."

Eamon had been very active in Connor’s upbringing until he fell ill during the Blight.  After everything that had happened, Teagan imagined that his little niece or nephew to be would have a hard time escaping their father’s watchful eye.  The second child of Eamon and Isolde would want for nothing, starting long before it was even born if Teagan had to make a guess.  It was almost a wonder Eamon had left Redcliffe at all... which reminded him that his brother had said he had more than one piece of news.

"Was that all your news?"

"No.  It was not."  Eamon took several sips of his wine and set the glass down.  Turning slightly he leaned toward Teagan, his smile faded into the more serious, down-to-business version of his brother that Teagan was used to seeing.  "I’ve had word back from Kirkwall.  There was a letter from someone Isolde knows--" Eamon waves his hand dismissing whatever he’d been about to say.  "Fact is, we know where he’s been staying and that he’s been there for some time."

"That’s good news," Teagan said, feeling that it was exactly the opposite.

His brother seemed to ignore the flatness in his words and continued, "This might be just the time to convince him to come home.  I know Anora won’t want him here, after everything, but have you spoken to her about Rainesfere?"

Stomach twisting into knots, Teagan swallowed some wine in the hopes of easing his nerves.  He had not, in fact, talked to Anora about Rainesfere at all, beyond conversational topics about messages from his seneschal or musing questions from her about his life there.  There had never been a time to bring up the topic of his replacement as Bann because he’d never wanted there to be.  A part of him knew, especially now as his brother stared expectantly at him over a glass of wine, that he was being ridiculous.  Holding on to a house and a patch of land when he was King Consort was probably petty.  But Anora hadn’t discussed the need for him to pass it on to anyone else, and her father had held on to his place in Gwaren for all these years.  Rainesfere hadn’t been his specifically when he’d moved there, but Teagan wanted to believe he’d made his mark on it in the past twenty years.  

He shook his head.  "It hasn’t come up," he said.

"You said you would speak to her!"  Eamon sets his glass down, giving Teagan a sharp, angry look.  His brother’s eyebrows alone, speak volumes.  

"I said," Teagan said carefully emphasizing his words in an attempt to keep his flaring anger and the sting of hurt out of his voice, "when Alistair was found, we could talk of it.  You’ve just brought me the news about Alistair in Kirkwall ... today."

"Yes, but we’ve known for some time that he was in the Free Marches and even suspected he had settled in Kirkwall."

"And they had closed the city to outsiders, Eamon.  I have kept an ear to the news from the Marches, in case we had word about Alistair."

Eamon huffed and Teagan watched the air ruffle his brother’s beard.  Just above the graying beard, Eamon’s cheeks were pink and turning darker with frustration.  It was almost as if he could hear the click of teeth as his brother’s jaw tightened, that slide-click-slide sound of him working out what his next words would be, once he’d chosen them.

Teagan, ever the little brother, cocked an eyebrow and refused to wait for Eamon to pick his words carefully.

"What makes you think Alistair is going to come home to take care of Rainesfere, anyway?  He was in a big hurry to get out of Ferelden, and didn’t want any business with the throne before that.  Seems he gave up a lot, but he’s not scratching down our doors to get back in.  What if he wants to go back to the Chantry?  Or the Wardens?"

With another huff and a sound of muffled indignance, Eamon stood.  "Perhaps you don’t care--"

Teagan lifted a hand to protest, but Eamon ignored him.

"I know that you care what happens with Rainesfere, Teagan.  But perhaps your time here is coloring things, or perhaps you don’t care what happens with Alistair, or maybe you only think him better off away from here..."  Eamon took a breath and his expression turned dark, something menacing, something from years past and another face with a similar flash of anger when Teagan had broken a vase in Rowan’s room.  It was his father’s voice out of Eamon’s mouth, his anger wound tight to every line in his brother’s face.  "But I went along with this--" he gestures wildly-- "because I assumed you would keep our best interests in mind.  Maybe I was wrong to trust you with all of this."

"All of--" he breathed and his words trailed off as the full realization of his brother’s words hit him.  

Eamon didn’t give him chance for a proper rebuttal, it went against his character to back down when he knew he had the upper hand.

"You need to figure out how important family is to you, Teagan.  Go to Kirkwall, get Alistair, and bring him home.  It’s such a simple task.  Do it, and perhaps you’ll prove worthy of this after all."

All the air went out of his chest as though Eamon had slapped him.  While Teagan knew his brother was being overly dramatic, as was often his way, it didn’t stop the sting of his words.  For years, it had only been the two of them; Teagan always looking up to his brother, trying to be the same savvy, politically-minded type of man his brother had become after following in their father’s footsteps.  Somewhere along the way, Teagan had picked up the wit and the charm, but he wore it like a novelty, while Eamon put it to use.  But he'd never craved the power, or titles, never needed or wanted more than was his due.  As the youngest child, and the youngest brother, Teagan never had any reason to believe he’d need more than his home in Rainesfere.  

The Blight had almost taken everything away from him.  With the help of the Warden, his brother’s family had been saved, his brother had woken from a powerful poisoned sleep, and the country had been saved.  When she’d suggested Teagan as Anora’s husband, he’d needed little convincing to accept.  Earning Anora’s trust was difficult, but they were managing.  

Anora had come close to exiling Alistair after that fit he’d thrown in the Landsmeet.  Had he raised a sword to her father, she probably would have.  He’d had the good sense to get out of the country and stay away since then.  Had it not been for the arrangement of their marriage, he had every reason to believe Anora may still have ordered Alistair to keep his distance.  It was his own marriage to Anora that both kept the Guerrins aligned with the throne, and kept Alistair’s parentage from being a complete threat.   Of course, Eamon was also ignoring the matter of Alistair’s own resistance to taking any position of authority.  He’d ceded control of the Wardens to Daphne Cousland, and refused to acknowledge he even had a claim to the throne of Ferelden.  The boy had no business leading anything, nor did he have the interest.

But Eamon was convinced otherwise.

Teagan stared at his brother, words churning in his mind to compile a response, but he had no chance to react.  His brother’s face was red and tense, eyes too dark below heavy brows.  When Teagan took too long to answer, he balled his hands into fists and stormed out of the room, shouldering one of the doors as he exited.  His brother was gone, and Teagan was left feeling like the eight year old boy he’d been thirty years ago, watching from the boat headed for the Free Marches as their father shrank to nothing more than a speck on the horizon.

He didn’t bother to follow Eamon.  Teagan poured himself another glass of wine and sat back down in front of the fire.  

Rendorn Guerrin had told his boys when he’d set them on the boat that they couldn’t come home, until they came home men.  Eamon had been eight years older than him at the time, and Teagan had barely been big enough to hold a wooden training sword.  They’d both come back from the Free Marches older, but of all their family, it was only Eamon who’d survived long enough to see him become a man, a soldier, a Bann, and now, King Consort.

 


	8. Chapter 8

Anora hadn’t heard the argument between her husband and his brother, but word made its way through the castle quickly enough.  

"And you don’t know what it was regarding?" she asked Erlina, who’d brought her the news.

"No, Your Majesty.  Only that his brother left the room with a very red face, and fists at his side. One of the servants asked if he required anything, he only passed her by without a word."

"That seems unlike him," Anora said.  She pondered a moment and turned around to face Erlina, interrupting the woman’s work on the laces at the back of her dress.  "And where is my husband now?"

"Still in his office, Your Majesty, just as he was when Arl Guerrin left."

"Good."  She nodded and turned back around.  "Finish up and I think I’ll go and see after him.  Can you have the kitchen send dinner into his office?  Something simple, since it seems we won’t have his brother joining us in the dining hall."

"Yes, Your Majesty."  Erlina tugged at her laces and a moment later Anora felt her step away as she said, "I have finished.  I will deliver your instructions to the kitchen."

Anora waited for a time after Erlina left her chambers.  She'd seen both Guerrin men angry before, Eamon at the Landsmeet until she and Teagan had given in to Daphne's suggestion, and Teagan months before after news spread of Cailan's death at Ostagar.  Neither of them was shy of confrontation, but she'd never seen them argue with each other.  Never even seen the slightest inclination that they could truly be upset with each other.  They debated, and disagreed, but never in raised voices as far as she knew.  

It was a troubling thought.

But it wasn't the argument that sobered her thoughts.  It was the subject of their fight that made her both curious and concerned.  

Since their wedding Teagan had spoken of his brother very little, though he'd visited a few times and she knew they exchanged letters often.  The daughter of Loghain Mac Tir knew paranoia, and she knew it well.  Despite the smoothness of their marriage this far, Anora was still uncertain of its success.  She might never be content to label it so, not as long as her husband's brother was an Arl with nothing to keep his time and mind occupied but politics.  While she hated the idea of being in another marriage that would dissolve over time into nothing more than smiling faces in public, she would rather live paranoid of that future than become blind to the possibility that things would never be as they appeared.

Rather than spending her evening fretting over an argument she’d only heard about through castle gossip, Anora went searching for her husband.  He was, as Erlina said, still in his office.  It looked lived in to the untrained eye, but Anora knew the room by heart, knew that Teagan had touched it very little since they’d been married.  The chairs by the fire were his addition, a place of calm that reminded him of his much cozier office in Rainesfere.  Wine was no stranger to the room, but at Teagan’s side it looked just as inviting as his furniture.

"Teagan?" Anora called as she entered the room.  "There you are."

Teagan turned slowly to face her, lips curling in a wan smile.  His voice was flat and unaffected as he greeted her simply.  "Anora."

She crossed the room to him, walking behind his chair and coming around to the other side, before dropping a hand gently on his shoulder.  He looked up just as slowly as he’d greeted her, and she could not tell if it was the half empty carafe of wine at his side, or merely his own thoughts that weighed him down.

"Since it seems your brother won’t be joining us for dinner, I’ve instructed the kitchens to bring us something simpler to us here."

"All right," Teagan replied, those simple words seeming too big for his mouth.

Anora knew she had never been good at playing the distraction, the seductress, so did not try.  Instead, she could only attempt what she knew she and Teagan seemed to do well already.  

"Would you like to talk about what’s bothering you?"

Teagan regarded her steadily, a flash of irritation chased by something she knew was merely affected and controlled calm.  It was the look he had when he held court with her on its most boring days.  

She lifted an eyebrow.  "Is that a no?"  

"No."

Her lips twitched and she schooled her own expression into still silence.  She drew her hand away from him with a swift, light motion and crossed in front of him to the other chair.  Her chin lifted haughtily as she sat, as if behind her was not some overstuffed comfort, but the grand throne at the heart of the palace.  It was warm in front of the fire, warmer than she liked, and it was a wonder that Teagan hadn’t already called for it to be put out for the evening given the heavy clothes he wore.  He didn’t look flushed, but she felt her own face reddening after just a few minutes in front of the fire.  

The both of them sat in silence, Anora watching her husband without staring, and Teagan’s gaze drifting between the goblet in his hands she judged was empty, and the fire before them.  By the time Teagan spoke she felt light-headed with the heat and she let out a soft sigh at the sound of his voice.  

"I do wish to talk," he said softly.  He offered her a small shrug, leaning in towards the side of his chair closest to her.  He took in a deep breath and set his goblet on the table between them.  His eyes fixed on her, clearer than they’d been, as he asked, "Am I able to assume you know that Eamon and I argued?"

Anora nodded.  "I was told there were raised voices, though I do not know what you spoke of."

It was his turn to nod.  "My brother mentioned something--"

There was a light knock on the open doors and a few servants rushed in with trays of food.  One of the kitchen boys carried a short table and set it down in front of them.  Their food was arranged quickly and quietly, save the soft sounds of metal or wood scraping as plates and trays were placed on the table.  Wine and water was poured for them both and Anora and Teagan fell silent waiting to be alone once more.

At the sight of the food, Anora’s stomach turned slightly, too warm to consider much of it appetizing.  Her husband had no such problems as he leaned forward to make a plate for himself.  He settled back in his chair and looked at Anora.

"Are you not joining me?"

"The fire has made me too warm, I think," she said shaking her head.  "My appetite is not what it was earlier."

She nodded at his plate and he took her meaning, taking a few bites for himself.  While she waited, Anora sipped her wine, and lifted a hand to call over someone to shutter the fire.  It didn’t need to go out completely, but she would welcome a break from the heat.  

After a few bites of his meal Teagan met Anora’s waiting gaze.  "My brother did bring some good news during his visit," he said.  "Would you like to hear it?"

If it got Teagan talking and working towards what was troubling it, she would welcome any information from his visit.  Over another sip of her wine, Anora nodded.  

"He and Isolde are expecting their second child.  He seems excited, but I’m sure Isolde is beside herself with joy."  Quieter he added, "I wonder if they’ve told the Warden.  I’m sure Daphne would like to know."

It was good news indeed for Arl of Redcliffe, especially after Eamon had come so close to losing both wife and son without even knowing it.  While Anora understood why it was a happy occasion for them, her chest hurt with the news.  She and Cailan had tried for years, and Anora knew the rumors said she was barren, that Cailan would’ve set her aside for another bride, or for a mistress who would bear him heirs.  A new marriage didn’t carry quite the same pressure for heirs, as those five years had, but she knew it was bound to be a question eventually.  Anora was not normally a jealous woman, others rarely had what she could not, but an heir was not a thing she could merely acquire.  

"That is... happy news for them," Anora said.  "And you, to be an uncle again."

"Yes."

When Teagan didn’t elaborate she noticed that his gaze had fallen once more to fire, perhaps noticing for the first time that she’d had it shuttered.  Anora shifted in her seat, straightening her shoulders some.  She could afford him some time to his own thoughts, but she disliked being so pointedly ignored.  Her mind conjured up the worst ideas, that her husband would turn out a fraud, a political manipulator no better than his brother, nephew, or the host of other nobles that either vied for her attention or sought to unseat her.

She finished her wine and set down her glass.  "Teagan.  What else did you and Eamon discuss?"

"Alistair."

Her fists clenched in her skirts.  "What of Alistair, Teagan?"

Teagan turned to her, his jaw tense and his gaze settled coldly on hers.  "He’s in Kirkwall, a city in the Free Marches, and my brother thinks it is time I bring him home."

She responded tersely, "I know where Kirkwall is."  It was the least offensive part of what he’d said, but in an effort to rein in her anger she started there while she examined the rest of his words.  

He continued, without comment on her response.  "I would remove him from the Free Marches and return him to Ferelden.  Eamon thinks I should give him Rainesfere."

"He... what?"  Anora was up and out of her seat, staring down at Teagan with her fists balled at her sides.  "And you’ve agreed to this?"

"No!"  

She didn’t have the wherewithal to appreciate his surprised look, only to note that he’d responded so quickly before he continued.

"It’s not like that," Teagan said.  He stood, moving to the side of his chair to put distance between them.  "I wasn’t even sure I wanted to give up Rainesfere when Eamon first mentioned it and I just... I hoped that it wasn’t anything I’d have to think about until we--"

"Just how long have you been planning this, Teagan?"

"No, Anora, it’s not some plot--"

"Sounds like one.  You, agreeing to marry me to get into the castle, to insinuate yourself--" Anora moved forward as she spoke, voice growing louder as she came around the chair towards him.  Anger churned her stomach and it burned, having only wine to fill it.

Teagan pleaded over her words. "Listen to me, Anora!"  He reached out for her, but Anora jerked out of his grasp.

"Talk then," she snapped.  "Tell me how this isn’t some plot to bring back Maric’s heir to take my throne."  She shook her head as she stared at him, wondering how she’d fallen so easily for his charm.  Lifting her hand to her temples she whispered, "Maker, this is exactly what my father warned me about."

"Look, I didn’t tell you because I didn’t think it would happen.  I thought Eamon would, I don’t know, I thought by the time it mattered to him that there would be another option.  I didn’t think Alistair was going to be found either.  He made it clear he didn’t want anything to do with us."  Teagan’s voice quieted as he added, "I’m probably the last person he wants to see anyway, after everything."

"Wait, you knew this was Eamon’s plan and didn’t tell me?  For how long?  How long have you known this was his plan?"  Her voice was lower, calmer, though not eased by his words, but her own self-determination and control.  He had caught her by surprise, but she would not let the entire palace hear her anger.

Or call treason where she could not take it back.

If this was his confession to some traitorous plot, she knew she could give the order to command Teagan to a cell.  She wanted to believe that there was something real between them, and that she hadn’t been drawn into some plot crafted by his brother.  Wanting it was not enough to make it true.  The alternative both angered and exhausted her.  

As though he’d been waiting to see her calm down, Teagan nodded and said, "Eamon mentioned Rainesfere to me..."  He paused and sighed, looking at her with large blue eyes that told her she would not like the idea when she heard it.  

Anora lifted an eyebrow, urging him to complete the thought.

"... as we left Denerim after the Landsmeet."

Her mouth hung open for a moment before she brought herself up to her full height and shut her eyes with a deep breath.  She stood still for several moments before she heard his voice again, very quietly.

"Anora?"

"All. This. Time."  She shook her head between the pauses, blinking slowly in disbelief.  Her chest hurt and it felt like the fire had flared to life again.  It was hard to breathe.

"I’m trying to tell you... "

She shot him a murderous look, daring him to continue.  He closed his mouth and sighed, eyes closing a moment later as he leaned against the back of the chair between them.  

It was quiet for a long time, save the soft popping sounds of the low fire behind the barrier.  Anora found her way back to her chair and sat down as she considered her options.  Eventually, Teagan found his seat next to her, and poured them both a glass of wine.  She took hers gratefully, even from Teagan.  If he’d been planning to assassinate her, he’d had ample opportunity and he was a warrior besides, poison was not beyond him but too against his character.  Her glass was nearly empty by the time she looked back at him and sighed heavily.  

"Tell me."

Teagan was already looking at her when she turned, and he frowned at the command and nodded a moment later.

"It’s not a plot, I swear it," he said.

"I find that difficult to believe, Teagan.  Even from you."  She set her glass back on the table and steepled her fingers in her lap.  Her voice was level, but regal, the kind of tone she used for holding court.  "Tell me Eamon’s plan for Alistair’s return."

Teagan sighed, but he didn’t look away when he spoke.  "I am to go to Kirkwall, convince Alistair to come back to Ferelden, and offer him Rainesfere... or convince him to take it."  He shook his head.

"And then?"

"I bring him home," he said with a shrug.  "Install him in Rainesfere, I suppose."

"What do you get out of this?"

"Me?"  Teagan shrugged again.  "Nothing.  I lose Rainesfere to a boy who doesn’t want it, and who isn’t of my blood.  Even if I consider him family."  He smiled wanly.  "You, angry with me.  And Eamon, pleased."

"You have forgotten a titled nephew.  Whether he is of your blood or not, you and Eamon are the family he has."  

If Eamon bid him, would Alistair lay claim to her throne?  He’d refused at the Landsmeet, but now that Blight was ended and the Wardens had an arling in Ferelden, perhaps his feelings would be different.  She didn’t want to take that chance.

Perhaps sensing her thoughts, Teagan said, "He didn’t want to be King before..."

"That might be true," she answered, "but a year could have changed him significantly.  Especially having spent that year as an unwelcome Ferelden in the Free Marches."

"I am sorry, Anora."

She ignored his apology, her mind lost in the dozens of possible futures where Alistair returned from Kirkwall eager for a throne.  Her throne.  He would have to pry her cold body off it before he could claim it for his own, and yet... there was the part where his uncle, her husband, would have a part to play in each of these futures.  Since the beginning of this arrangement she had wondered how far she could trust him.  This might not be the moment he betrays her, but it could be the first step towards it.

"Would you support him?" she asked.

"What?"

"If Alistair returned, took Rainesfere from you, and your brother encouraged him to challenge me.  Would you support him?"

"It’s not like that, Anora.  I’m telling you."

"You haven’t been a King for the better part of decade, Teagan.  So believe me when I tell you that it’s always possible someone is plotting against you."  She tightened her jaw and spoke very quietly as she asked again.  "Would. You. Support. Him."

Equally quiet, Teagan said, "No."

"Would you give him Rainesfere?"

She saw him grimace and shift in his chair before he nodded.  "Yes."

"Fine.  Go to Kirkwall.  Offer him Rainesfere."

Teagan arched a brow at her.  "Go?  Why?  You want me to--"

Anora shook her head slowly.  "I do not want you to go.  Nor do I want Alistair to have a title in Ferelden."  She sighed and leaned her head back against the chair.  "No. I don’t want it, but I cannot have your brother holding Alistair over us.  He will, I think.  And I also think you know that it’s not something he’s going to easily let go of."

She heard him sigh.  "No.  I can’t say for sure that Eamon doesn’t have some other plan in mind."

Teagan was quiet for a time and Anora raised her head to look at him.  His face was shadowed, his frown deepening the lines around his eyes.  It turned her stomach to see the sadness in his eyes and knowing she’d been the one to put it here.  Even if she was still uncertain she could trust him, she wanted to.  She knew distrust and betrayal, she knew what it felt like to discover the lies and plots of her own family.  Teagan was not Cailan though, nor her father, and much as she’d loved them both there were things she knew about them now that made her hate them both, when she had reason to remember them.  

With effort, Anora stood and walked over to Teagan, laying her hand lightly on his arm.  It was difficult, but she found a pale smile for him.  Remembering how gentle he’d been with her the last few months.  Her anger was faded, and what unhappiness remained was not for him, but his brother’s schemes.

"I wish you hadn’t kept it from me," she said.  "I would’ve liked to be better prepared."

"I know."  Teagan met her gaze and straightened, covering her hand with one of his.  "Maybe you’re right," he said softly.  "Maybe Eamon wants more than Rainesfere."

"Go get Alistair."  She drew in a breath and exhaled steadily, ignoring the warmth of his hand on hers, ignoring the urge she had to step in closer to him.  Shaking her head she said, "I don’t want him here, but if you make the offer and oversee his placement in Rainesfere we’ll be better suited to keep watch over them both."

"All right."  Teagan gathered himself up, but watched as his face and shoulders relaxed.  "I’ll prepare tomorrow, and be off before the end of the week.  I will make the trip quick as I can."

"See that you do, husband."

 


	9. Chapter 9

Teagan hated the trip to Kirkwall.  Everything about it was dirty and disappointing.  The people of the Free Marches were not very kind to Ferelden travellers either, even a year after the Blight.  Money helped, but he refused to travel like some self-important regent.  The guards were a necessity he understood given his new title, but the trouble and expense of anything beyond the extra protection was nothing he wanted or needed.  Given the nature of people’s attitude towards Fereldens at all in the wake of the Blight, it was best not to go as unnoticed as possible.

"Besides," he’d told Anora as he packed, "if I disappear because I was ill-prepared to take the trip as a Bann instead of the King Consort, then you’ll have your crown and be none the worse for all the trouble I was."  He smiled and ignored the sharp look his wife gave him.  They’d not been on joking terms, or good terms at all, when he left.  His attempts at light-heartedness in the face of their frustrations had not been appreciated.

The one thing the trip had provided in abundance was time to think about his mistakes.  There had been many of them, though he couldn’t decide which was worse: arguing with both his brother and his wife, lying to both of them, or the fact that he couldn’t decide.  For decades, all Teagan really had in the world was Eamon, and Rainesfere.  But just because he thought highly of his brother, didn’t mean he always agreed with him.  Perhaps he could’ve saved them all some trouble if he’d thought to speak his mind when Eamon had presented the idea.  He hadn’t.

And that had brought him nothing but the City of Chains on the horizon.

Thankfully, the easiest part of the whole endeavor was finding Alistair.  By the time Teagan hit Lowtown, anyone he asked pointed him in a single direction: the Hanged Man tavern.  He didn’t want to know what Alistair had done to become so recognizable, and had no intention of asking.  When he opened the door to the Hanged Man, the question answered itself anyhow.

"Say it again!" Alistair yelled.  He was filthy from head to toe, but there was no mistaking his profile even from the doorway.  One of his fists was wrapped in a smaller man’s shirt, holding him against the bar, his other fist drawn back winding up to throw a punch.  From the blood on the man’s face, it wouldn’t have been the first punch either.

The small man in Alistair’s grasp mumbled something and held his hands out to either side of his body, offering himself up at Alistair’s mercy. From the way his brows knit together and his hand clinched more of the man’s shirt, he had no mercy left to give.  Something like water, or ale from the looks of the tavern floor, dripped from Alistair’s hair and into his eyes.  

Alistair grumbled.  "Not good enough."

"Alistair!" Teagan called, trying to diffuse whatever tense situation he’d walked in on.  Holding up his arms in greeting, he kept his voice cheerful as he said, "There you are!"

The stare his nephew shot back was poisonous.  Straight-faced, Teagan continued forward until he was at Alistair’s side.  The mid-afternoon crowd around them seemed to be going back to their food and drinks, though a few heads were still turned their direction.  Behind him, he heard the heavy jangles of his armored guards as they cut through the crowd.

"Come, nephew," Teagan said.  "It’s been so long."

The man held fast by Alistair’s grasp, squirmed.  Alistair grunted and after a dark exchange of looks between them, with a few pointed glances at Teagan, he let the little man go.  

"Get out.  Just..."  He pointed towards the door and the other man scrambled forward, not needing to be told twice.  

Alistair reeked of alcohol and his hair and clothes sent drops flying as he turned and stalked towards an empty table.  The floor around it was covered in spilled drink.  As Alistair sat down, Teagan followed after him, holding a hand up for the guards to keep their distance.  Everyone around them seemed engrossed in their own conversations once more, and a few shouts for refills sounded across the tavern.  

"Sorry to interrupt," Teagan greeted.  "Actually, that man is probably very grateful for my interruption, so perhaps I’m not sorry after all."  He sat down at Alistair’s table, not expecting or waiting for an invitation.

Dark brown and curling in patches around his ears, Alistair’s hair had grown longer since the Landsmeet.  He grunted at Teagan and shook his hands through his hair, spraying ale everywhere.  

"He’ll be sorry if I see him again," Alistair said.

"And what was his crime?"

"Spilled my drink."

Teagan frowned.  "Is this how you spend all your afternoons now, Alistair?"

Alistair tossed back a drink and slammed down his mug on the table.  He waved at one of the girls nearby for another without focusing on Teagan.  It was a surprise he could get anyone to serve him at all, but the tavern itself seemed mostly unphased by his outburst and at some point his mug had been refilled, so Teagan had to gather no one much cared.  The bartender was the only one that seemed to have paid Alistair any mind, still glancing their way now and again, but the way his eyes slid to the guards Teagan had waved back, he wondered how much of the man’s sneer was for him instead.  

When Alistair had a new drink in his grasp he took a sip before bowing his head over it.  

"Not all my afternoons.  Mornings though.  A lot of evenings."  He shrugged.  "What do you care?"

Teagan sighed.  "I care."

"Sure.  Just like you cared when Daphne threw you under Anora, huh?  That seemed to work out pretty well for you."  

He tensed and gave Alistair a narrow look.  "Not so well for Loghain, you should be pleased to hear."

"I was.  When I heard.  What’s taken you so long... uncle?"

"That wasn’t the news I came to give you.  Though I don’t think you are ready to receive the news I did come here to share."  Teagan glanced at Alistair’s dirty clothes, the mud ground into the sides of his boots, the holes in the sides of his trousers, the thinning patches of fabric around his shoulders.  It wasn’t Warden armor he was wearing, it was old and worn and ill-fitting.  

"Out with it anyway," Alistair said.  He took another drink, waving with his free hand at Teagan to get him talking.  

"I’ve only been in town a day, Alistair.  I would like to learn what you’ve been up to since you left Denerim.  You kept Eamon’s men quite occupied for months before settling here."

"You’re looking at it," he said, taking another drink.  "This and making sure I can pay for it."

"How’d you get into Kirkwall?  I thought they weren’t letting in Fereldens during the Blight?"

"They let in Wardens though."  Alistair shrugged.  "Look.  Teagan.  If you came to make sure I was here--" he waved a hand in front of his chest-- "I’m here.  You can go back to your new fancy palace and let Uncle Eamon know I’m safe and sound."

"I’d prefer you came back and told him yourself.  He’s been quite worried."

Alistair laughed.  "Oh, worried is he?  Not so worried I bet, knowing you’re bedding the queen, and making sure to keep that throne warm."  He shook his head and looked at Teagan, blue eyes wavering and surrounded by the red that spoke of long nights spent awake, and drinking.  "I told him I didn’t want it."

"I know you did," Teagan said softly.  "That’s not why I’m here.  Though I did come to offer you something."

Shaking his head, Alistair stood up from the table.  "Whatever it is, I don’t want it.  I’m done with him, with you, with the Chantry, and the Wardens.  You’ve wasted your time coming here, uncle.  I just want to be left alone."  He waved a hand and started away from the table.  "Enjoy your time in Kirkwall."

Teagan stood and followed Alistair as he made for the rooms at the back of the tavern.  "Alistair, wait!"

Alistair didn’t stop, and halfway to the back hallway Teagan stopped following him.  Perhaps offering Alistair anything was the wrong approach.  Or, perhaps if he was clever, he’d return home and tell everyone that Alistair refused to take anything from them.  In this state, no one would want him as a Bann anyhow; Teagan could be done with the whole matter.  He and Anora could come up with another plan for Rainesfere, one that would appease Eamon and ease his own mind.

Turning tail because Alistair was angry and drowning in alcohol wouldn’t help.  It was the easiest path to heading home, but Teagan knew he wouldn’t feel right about it.

He did leave the Hanged Man for the night, finding better accommodations in Hightown.  He paid someone to keep watch in Lowtown, just in case Alistair tried to leave.  Morning came and went without word, and Teagan went back to the tavern himself for a second round with his nephew.  Not that he could tell from the looks of the Hanged Man that it was a new day.  Alistair wasn’t mid-punch when Teagan walked into the tavern, but he was yelling.  Any good warrior could tell the thrusts of Alistair’s hands between him and his audience.  Whatever he was talking about was a good battle, re-lived.

"Good afternoon, Alistair," Teagan greeted as he reached the table.

Paying no attention to him, Alistair continued, "... so there we were, everything’s quiet right? There’s this weird sound, like in the middle of the night when the sky is full of stars instead of clouds and it feels cold and heavy.  Then there’s this rushing sound like water in a fast river and--"

Teagan sat down, gaining only a cursory glance from Alistair who leaned forward with the tension in his story.  His hands lifted off the table and Teagan watched them, putting together the story just in time to lean back as Alistair slammed them down again.  The mugs on the table rocked, and the tavern quieted in the booming echo, before conversations picked up again.

"--whoosh! It lands right in front of us, big as this building!  Bigger even!"

Alistair’s audience was an older man with more hair in his curling, gray beard than on the top of his head.  As he recovered from the booming of Alistair’s storytelling abilities, his face split into a grin.  "You’re lying!  If’n they existed, you wouldn’t be standing here.  Can’t tell me you outran a dragon!"

"Oh I assure you, serrah," Teagan said, reaching a hand across the table to get the man’s attention.  "They exist, and he fought one."  He smiled at the man and leaned his head toward Alistair.  "Needed help though; fought with the Hero of Ferelden if you can believe it."

"I don’t!"

"Hey!"  Indignant, Alistair shot him a furious look and then tried appealing to the man.  "Don’t listen to my uncle.  He’s old; forgets how to tell a story."

The man’s attention was already lost, watery blue eyes wandering back and forth between Teagan and Alistair.  Teagan slipped a coin from his pouch and rolled it across the table.  

"My apologies for the interruption.  A drink, on me," he nodded toward the coin as it fell near the man’s hand.  There was plenty of drink to be had on the one silver.  "Go on."  

"My thanks."  The man scrambled to grab the coin before he left the table.  

Alistair glowered at his uncle.  "I thought I told you what you could do with your offers last night?"

"Remember that, do you?  Wasn’t sure you would... had to try again."

"Well, I remember.  And I’ll tell you again.  I don’t want whatever you, or Eamon, or that frosty queen want to give me."  He grabbed his mug and waved it at the nearest serving girl, tipping it to her with a smile.  "I haven’t drunk enough today to forget telling you to leave.  So when I say you can do so, you should."

Teagan leaned forward, stretching his forearms onto the table.  "Look.  Since you seem to want to make it more difficult than it needs to be, I’ll come right out and say it.  I’d rather be at home with my wife, but she insisted that I make the offer, same as Eamon did."  His lips tensed, skin puckering under his beard as he forced a smile at Alistair.  

"I’m not trying to make this easier," Alistair said.  "In fact, if I’m making it difficult, perhaps you should stay on a few days more.  I don’t owe you, or any of them anything.  They tried to force me--"

"They made you an offer, Alistair.  And when you didn’t take it, you made the choice-- you, did-- to leave.  You ran away, they didn’t kick you out."

"They expected me to work with him!  She was going to make him a Grey Warden!"

"She did make him a Grey Warden.  And he gave his life to end the Blight.  You don’t have to like it.  You don’t have to like him.  Maker knows we each have our problems with the way things happened, Alistair, but running away isn’t the way--"

"Stop.  Just, stop.  I don’t need your lectures."

"Fine."  Teagan held up his hands and backed away. After a heavy sigh, he stood up, leaning over Alistair as the serving girl arrived with his refill.

Alistair didn’t look at him.  He just stared down into his drink.

Quietly, as Alistair swallowed, Teagan said, "Here’s the offer, nephew.  I’ll give you a day to think it over, and then I’m heading home."  Another deep breath.  "You get Rainesfere.  Stop drinking, come to Denerim and we’ll make the arrangements for you to succeed me as Bann.  That’s it.  That’s what you get.  You won’t get another offer."

Alistair scrubbed a hand through the rough hair on his chin.  "If I refuse?"

"You stay away."  He leaned down, meeting Alistair’s eyes with a steady gaze.  It was the most calm he’d felt since he started packing for the trip to Kirkwall.  As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he knew they were the right ones for both him and Anora.  She didn’t need the threat Alistair’s claim on the throne could still pose, and Teagan couldn’t have him deciding he wanted Rainesfere in a year, or two, or five.  It was now, or it was nothing.

"So I’m an enemy now?"

"No.  You are family.  You always will be.  You’ll just need to be family outside Ferelden.  You are an unknown, Alistair.  We need people who are willing to rebuild what’s left.  Right now you can barely take care of yourself."

"That’s not very convincing... uncle."

"Doesn’t have to be.  If you feel like an enemy, you did that.  Not me."  Teagan straightened.  "I’ll come back tomorrow for your decision.  We don’t have to be enemies, Alistair.  But you can’t pretend that what you’re doing is the best of your choices.  If you refuse, you won’t have an offer like this again."

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

Teagan returned to the Hanged Man the following day to meet with Alistair.  Only Alistair refused to meet with him.  Teagan ordered drinks for them both, waiting at the table he’d twice found his nephew inhabiting, but Alistair never showed.  He occupied his room, and shouted unpleasant remarks through the door at his uncle, when Teagan called after him.  Teagan spent his afternoon quietly waiting for Alistair to come to his senses, or at least to attempt a reasonable conversation.  If the boy wanted to refuse Rainesfere, Teagan was happy to allow it, but he would’ve preferred to part with his nephew on better terms.

In the evening, Teagan composed a letter to Anora informing her of the situation.  Alistair had decided his future, and a home in Ferelden wasn’t in it.  Whether he was pleased to not be giving his home to Alistair or not, Teagan was stung by his nephew’s behavior.  There had been a time during the Blight, he’d felt pride at how well Alistair had turned out.  A home and a future with the Wardens, however small their numbers, seemed to be something Alistair himself was proud of.  To see him throw it away so completely was a disappointment.  There was no denying Alistair’s childish behavior.  Running away during the war, when they needed every man who could fight to join them, proved what was at the young man’s core.

His letter home to Anora was short.  He did not need to outline Alistair’s behavior, only his disinterest in taking over Rainesfere.  There was too much else he needed to say to Anora to put it all in a letter.  He hadn’t wanted to give up Rainesfere before, but seeing Alistair’s current state showed how unsuited he was to leadership.  If he was truthful, he’d known it before he and Eamon had fought.  Teagan had been too cowardly to admit it to his brother at the time, and now perhaps the best he could do was salvage whatever was left of his relationship with Anora and hope his brother understood in time.

To Eamon, he did write of Alistair’s behavior.  In detail.  Within days, his brother would know what Teagan had seen.  Whether he believed Alistair was an unfit to lead as Teagan did, would be another matter.  Eamon had always had an eye on political matters; it made him a good Arl.  When Isolde suggested Alistair be sent to the chantry, it had been for selfish reasons.  It had been about appearance, and pride.  It had been better then, when Alistair had been a distant memory and Eamon’s focus had been on Redcliffe, and his family.  

Things might not be the same between them when Teagan returned home, and he hoped his brother could accept that.  If Eamon could not, Teagan hoped that he would be strong enough not to be taken in by Eamon’s plans again.  It was a not a pleasant letter to write and he regretted the necessity of it at all.  Eventually, he’d need to speak to Eamon in person, the letter would have to suffice in the mean time.

After the events with Alistair, if Teagan could have returned to Denerim, he would have.  Plans to speak with the Viscount on behalf of Anora kept him in town through the week.  Meetings with displaced Ferelden nobles, and an extension of trade relations with a merchant from Ostwick, kept him in Kirkwall for longer than planned.  Anora’s letters in return agreed with the necessity of extending his visit.  She sent messages that matched his own in length and tone.  He imagined her carefully crafting each missive, and he missed her for that.  

It was a surprise, to acknowledge he missed her.  Missed her quiet reserve, the way she held court as though she had all the time in the world for each petitioner.  She knew the details of Ferelden life more intimately than he once would’ve imagined, and he knew he could’ve used her knowledge in his own dealings among the Free Marchers.

When it came time to return home, he found himself looking forward to it.  When he finally saw the docks of Denerim on the horizon, his heart felt lighter than it had in months.  He would apologize to Anora and set right what the messy intentions regarding Alistair had broken.  If he could.  Provided Anora gave him the chance to try.

"Your Majesty, we’re ready to disembark."

"Of course," Teagan replied.  His guardsmen were at the gangplank already, waiting for him to take the lead off the ship as their items were unloaded.  

The guardsman nodded to one of the ship’s crewman who saluted and jogged up the stairs to the captain’s deck.  He’d said his thanks to the captain already, paid him for the return trip and was ready to make his way to the palace as quickly as possible.  

"Let’s get home then, men."  He walked to the dock quickly and turned as the last of his men circled around him.  

The docks were quiet.  They’d had good weather on their return trip, healthy winds for spring speeding their way home.  No guards from the palace waited them as he would expect if they were on time.  Instead, his own men would have to serve the area, as he made his way through the city streets.  

"Your Majesty."  The man beside him nodded towards two city guardsmen on patrol.  

"I see them."

"Would you rather wait for your things?"  His guard waited expectantly, but after a month with him, Teagan expected he knew the answer to that question already.   He could hear the man turning behind him already, ready to head home.

Teagan answer him anyway, shaking his head.  "If we go now, we can use their help to make our walk home as quick as possible."

"Of course, Your Majesty."

There was a rush of motion as Teagan’s guards made their way down the docks, one of his men breaking off in front to meet the two guards.  There was a man and woman on patrol, and as Teagan and his men caught up with them, he could see them nodding in agreement to something his guardsman said.  He lifted his brow in question as he approached.

"They’ll see us to the palace--"

"Good.  I’d like to see my wife before midday."

"Of course--"

Teagan waved off the honorific before the guard could speak it and started walking through the guards.  Around him, the two city guards joined with the six men he had at his service.  Looking at the guards, he could tell the difference between the three men he’d brought into the palace guard from Rainesfere, the hilts of dwarven-made swords inscribed to match those of his guard at home.  He could not doubt the loyalty of the men that had been assigned to him as King Consort, but having Rainesfere men at his back was always a comfort.  Just as it was to see the Denerim shield on the city guards instead of the rigid dragon of Kirkwall.  

In the chill morning the sound of the guards as they walked was muffled by the surrounding flurry of cargo being loaded and unloaded from the ships in the harbor.  The wind was picking up, and Teagan was glad the ship landed when it did.  Used to ship travel as he might be, it was never good to be on deck when a storm kicked up.  He saw one of his men grimace into the wind and Teagan called out--

"Let’s speed it up!  Mulled cider for everyone if we can get through the palace gates before the storm finds us."

There were several agreeing voices around him, and then a yell cut through them--

"Down!"

Teagan knelt on instinct, head still looking out between the guards in front of him for an attack.  An arrow ripped through the shoulder of the city guardsman in front of him.  Beside him, an arrow whizzed by, narrowly missing the head of the guard next to him.

"Protect him!" One of the guards yelled and another guard was pushing him back a moment later.  

Teagan reached for his sword, drawing as he saw the two attackers in the distance.  Both had bows drawn, and new nocked arrows aimed in their direction.  The guards saw them too and drew their swords; the city guardsmen raised their shields as they charged the attackers.  From his vantage behind most of the guards, Teagan looked for other attackers.  Two people in the distance drew daggers and charged the city guards.

"Guards!"  Teagan yelled, but the men were already moving forward to stop the two new attackers.

An arrow stabbed his thigh before he could do more than raise a sword at any of the attackers. He caught sight of his bowman just before the man turned and darted down an alley.  One of the guards saw him too, yelling something as Teagan fell and giving chase to the attacker.  

"Keep him alive!" Teagan called after the guard, hoping to have someone to question when the fight was over.  None of their attackers looked like pirates, or even like they were a group, just mercenaries perhaps united for just this attack.  His guardsmen closed with the attackers, the first two dropping their bows in favor of cheaply made swords.  

Teagan was close to the fight but couldn’t bend his leg right to stand back up without help.  Watching his surroundings as carefully as he could from the ground, he crawled towards a stack of crates hoping to stay out of the way.  There wasn’t anyone around the crates, but Teagan could see the crewmen of the nearest ship watching the fight with interest.  He leaned out of sight the best he could, pulling his sword into his lap.

One of the guards fell, and the dark-haired woman he’d been attacking threw her dagger in Teagan’s direction.  She missed, dagger digging into the crate over his head.  The woman bore down on him, tucking away her other dagger and drawing a sword on him as she approached.  He could see one of his guards breaking off from the melee to help him, and with nowhere to go, Teagan could only lean forward and brandish his sword until help arrived.

 


	11. Chapter 11

When Anora read Teagan’s letter of Alistair’s refusal, she didn’t feel shame in her relief, though she was glad only Erlina was around to see her smile.  Anora was pleased that she would not be adding Alistair to the list of banns she would need to keep an eye on.  Problems in Ferelden were plenty enough without adding him to the list.  It’d been several weeks since Teagan promised to finish out his time in Kirkwall by meeting with Viscount on her behalf to negotiate some trade agreements now that the way was open between them again.  Even without an official envoy, she knew him capable of making the appropriate arrangements.  Whatever was between them now meant nothing to her judgement of him as a leader.  In her history of knowledge of him, Teagan had never been anything other than dedicated to his home, his family and his country.

She’d penned a letter to him just before his notice for his return, without flattery or pretty words.  She thanked him simply for the news and encouraged him to safety for his return trip.  Prior to their wedding, Teagan had been a useful ambassador and the reminders were likely unnecessary, but without them, she didn’t know what else to put in the letter.  She could barely instruct him properly, or say anything exactly as she meant it, for fear.

The month without him had given Anora time to herself that only when she had it, did she remember she needed it so badly.  She was Queen alone, and she reveled in it.  Teagan’s presence was missed at evening meals, and sometimes, sometimes very briefly, in her bed.  She had been alone for a long time, even before Cailan left her for war and death.  She found herself looking forward to his return in the coming days for those reasons.  His presence was missed, content as she was without his assistance in the matters of running the kingdom.

Their marriage was not one of necessity.  They’d claimed their arrangement with their own bodies, an attempt at common ground.  An attempt that despite their disagreements, could prove fruitful.

"Your Majesty?" Erlina’s voice was soft behind her.  "It’s time."

"All right, Erlina.  Show her in."

Anora moved from her desk to her couch, sitting prettily with her legs folded at the ankles as if she was about to receive Teagan into her bedroom instead of a young chantry healer.  

A young woman was ushered into the room by Erlina.  Her eyes were downcast as she approached but her hands looked steady and her dark hair was pulled back in a fastidious bun not that dissimilar from her own simple style.  

"Thank you, Erlina.  You can give us a few minutes."

Erlina nodded and turned away.  The young woman lifted her gaze, steady dark eyes studying Anora’s face but not quite meeting her gaze.  Once Erlina was gone from the room, Anora lifted a hand and beckoned to the young woman.

"Come closer, sister, and tell me your name."

"My name is Andreas, Your Majesty," she said as she approached.  

Anora straightened in her seat, as she realized how very young Andreas looked.  She was well-kept at the chantry, but her face was very young, no matter how steady her gaze.  

"Well met then, Andreas.  Do you know why I’ve asked you here?"

"No, Your Majesty.  Only that you requested to meet with the chantry’s healer."

"And you are she?"

Andreas clasped her hands in front of her and nodded.  "Yes.  Well, there is another, but she has been unwell for some time.  The Revered Mother prays for her, but for peace..."  The woman looked at Anora with a small nod.

 

"The Revered Mother expects she’ll pass soon, then?"

"Yes."

"Then you shall have to do."

"Your Majesty?"

"Erlina spoke to you of the agreement?  I need your assurance that this is--"

Andreas nodded quickly.  "You have my confidence.  Mother Lucia has always instructed me in privacy, no matter the... patient."

Anora frowned, drawing in breath to keep from snapping at the young woman.  She appreciated the sentiment at least.  Silence drew out between them, as Anora watched Andreas, wondering what to do.  She disliked having to speak of such things.  Her mother had died so young and her father had been impossible when it came to conversations of womanly matters.  Oh, he’d speak to her, but they had been dreadfully awkward.  And marriage to Cailan had made her unprepared for the necessity of engaging anyone on this specific topic.

Finally, it was Andreas that spoke, making Anora thankful just the tiniest bit.  "If Your Majesty could tell me the... symptoms, we could begin?"

"Ah."  Anora nodded.  She made no excuses for her awkward silence, and launched into her recent list of troubles.  "At first it seemed like nothing," she explained.  "I was a little warmer than usual, less hungry, nauseous in the mornings, but not always.  A few nights short of sleep, perhaps."

Andreas looked at her expectant, but quiet.

"It’s a little harder to sleep now and I am unable to keep down morning meals, sometimes no food throughout the day at all.  I believe..."  She put her hands to her stomach, rubbing her fingers over the loose laces Erlina had tied and the fabric of the dress, thinner than was seasonable.

"I hope you’ll pardon the question, Your Majesty-"

"No."  Anora held up a hand and shook her head.  "I know the question, I think.  It’s been two months.  There are some herbs I normally take for the discomfort, but I’ve not needed them.  There is also a... visible..."  She sighed and stood.  "I feel certain, Andreas.  What I need is your help managing the matter."

"Managing, Your Majesty?"

"Yes.  I may have once been a child, but I know little about carrying one."

"Of course."  Andreas flashed a smile and nodded.  "I have been witness to many a birth, not as many as Mother Lucia, but I can do whatever you need of me.  There have many recent births in Denerim, so what she taught me has been put to use many times already."

Anora quirked her lip in a half-smile in response.  Andreas was trying.  There were few pauses in the young woman’s speech, at least none that could be mistaken for hesitance, mistrust or deviousness.  Anora observed the young woman’s hands curling in at her waist, balling into loose fists, with nerves perhaps.  

"I am sure you will serve me well then, Andreas.  Now, I know it is customary to be examined but since you were not told why I wanted to meet with you, I do not expect you to be prepared for this specific situation."

"No."  Andreas stepped forward, "There are some things I would like to check, if you would permit me?  Things that do not require anything other than my hands."  She paused several steps away, head tilted as she waited for permission.

Anora’s hands stayed firm at her sides, against the impulse to fidget.  She was so rarely ill, she did not like the thought of this girl examining her.  Knowing it was not her safety and health alone that she needed to be concerned for, she nodded against her discomfort.  

"If that would help," Anora said.  

"I can be quick."  Andreas stepped forward and bent down to level herself against Anora’s seated figure.

A knock came from the door behind Andreas and a moment later they heard Erlina’s voice.  "Your Majesty, may I enter?  I have urgent news!"  The elven woman’s voice was high and anxious, and it struck into Anora’s chest making her heart beat faster.  

"Yes," she called out.  Ignoring Andreas, Anora stood and went to the door to greet Erlina.  Her handmaid was very rarely out of sorts, let alone the type of woman to be anxious in her presence.  Anora’s hands were shaking before the other woman was even through the door.  

Erlina was out of breath and her eyes widened seeing Anora so close to the door.  She closed the door quickly before rushing to Anora’s side.  She shot a quick look at Andreas.  "I’m sorry, this could not wait, Your Majesty."

Anora waved away her concern, heart drumming wild in her chest.  "What is it?"

"There are guards from His Majesty’s envoy to Kirkwall at the gates; they say he’s been injured."

"What?  How is he here?  He’s not due back for days yet!  What happened?"

Erlina shook her head.  "I know nothing else.  We should be able to meet them at the gates if we go now.  The men I spoke to only ran ahead to warn us of what happened.  The others are bringing His Majesty."

Anora didn’t know when Andreas had stepped beside them, but she was aware of the woman’s presence now.  "Andreas, you may have a different patient this day.  Follow me."

She heard the woman’s voice behind her as she left her room, expecting both women to follow her.  Typically, Anora never ran-- not in her low-heeled shoes, not in her long gowns; a queen expected things to be exactly where they needed to be when she was ready for them.  She didn’t feel very regal as she pushed her way through the hall, or when she slipped out of her shoes to gather speed.  

If anyone in the Denerim palace had questioned her fondness for their new king, it was hard to believe it as they watched their Queen sprinting through the hallways to greet his guards at the palace gate.  The doors were open and doubly guarded as she approached, but there was no Teagan.  Her gaze ricocheted through the hall, looking for his guards as she grew closer.  

"You two!" Erlina’s voice was breathy but clear.  Two guards stepped forward.  "That’s them,  Your Majesty."

Anora focused on the two guards, dirty with wide eyes and disheveled hair.  Their shoulders rocked as they recovered, and each of them carried a mug in one hand.  Some part of her realized that Erlina would deserve praise for making sure these men were cared for before running to inform her of the situation.  It would’ve only taken her a few words, but it was quick thinking, and one of the many reasons she treasured the woman as much as she did.  The rest of Anora was too busy recovering her breath and looking wildly at the men, demanding they tell her the story before she needed to ask for it.

One of the men bowed.  He was tall and his hair might have been blonde were it not wet and stuck to his head with sweat  "Your Majesty," he greeted, dripping water from his hair to the floor.

"We were attacked near the docks, Your Majesty," the other announced, bowing only as an afterthought.  "The weather was kind on our trip home, so we made quick time.  We only made landfall an hour ago, and His Majesty was eager to return to the palace, so many of us set off with him while the ship was left to unload."  He was nearly tall as the first man, but with sharp green eyes and dark hair.  His lazy manners were easy to excuse in the moment; it was clear he knew she wanted to get to the heart of the matter.

Anora waved her hand in the air to spur them on.  "On the docks, this was pirates?"

The first man, having recovered, jumped in, "No.  We don’t think so Your Majesty, not pirates.  It was quick, and the men that attacked us did so as the city guard was making its rounds.  We’re thankful for their help, actually..."

"If it wasn’t for the extra men, we may not--"

"They’re here, Your Majesty," Erlina announced.

Anora turned as a group of guards approached the open doors and the palace guard moved out of the way to allow them to enter.  There were not so many men that Teagan should’ve been lost among them, but she could not see him.

"Where is he?" She demanded.

"Here," Teagan called weekly.

The three men in the front moved, revealing Teagan leaning on the shoulders of a guard.  Another guard walked close behind him as a precaution.  Teagan’s leg was bleeding and his left arm hung limp, but he gave Anora a wan smile.  

There was a heartbeat were Anora couldn’t speak.  Out of the corner of her eye she saw Erlina moving towards the guards, saying something Anora couldn’t hear.  What mattered to her in the moment was making sure Teagan was safe and then getting him healed.  They might not have parted on good terms, but she was not about to lose another husband, let alone on the steps of the palace.

"This was not how I meant to return," Teagan said.  His heart wasn’t in the comment; he grimaced and hung his head down.  "At least we got ‘em."

Anora shook her head.  "You should’ve taken your time getting home, husband."  She straightened up and smoothed her hands against her head, and then down the sides of her dress where she’d held her skirts as she ran.

"Andreas!" she called.  "Tell the men what you need.  Erlina, I need you here."

 


	12. Chapter 12

There were soft noises slowly bleeding into his sleep.  Teagan opened his eyes slowly, registering the rest of his body with stiff muscles and a sharp pain in his leg.  From a distance he heard someone say, "he’s waking," and "... let her know".  With his eyes open, he could make out his room with a low fire in the hearth on the far wall.  Knowing he was in his own bed kept his head to the pillow, but he cast around for the sound of the voice.

He tried to speak but his mouth was dry and his lips cracked when he opened them.

"Don’t try to speak, Your Majesty.  You still need plenty of rest if you’re to heal that leg properly."

Turning to the sound of the voice, he saw a young dark-headed woman peering in from the hallway.  There was a guardsman at her side by the armored arm that was visible.  She smiled at him, but he could not place her face or her voice.

When he tried again to move, the woman called out, "I’m coming, Your Majesty, please don’t try to move."  He looked over to find her holding up the length of her chantry robes as she hurried to his side.  "Please lay back down.  I promise you, I’ve had the Queen sent for, she’ll be here any moment."  She smiled at him again, but she lifted a hand between them as if she meant to stop him if he tried to move again.  

He moved his tongue in his mouth, gathering the ability to croak out, "Who are you?"

"I’m sorry, Your Majesty," the woman said, smile fading.  She shook her head.  "I wasn’t thinking.  I’m Andreas.  I’m here from the chantry.  A healer."  Her gaze fell to his legs.  "Unfortunately, my specialties are not in healing wounds like yours.  But I believe Her--"

Teagan shook his head.  "Water?"  

"Of course!"  She grabbed a waterskin from the table near his bed and held it out.  "Will you need--"

His arm closest to Andreas was stiff, but it was fine enough to reach out and take the skin from her in order to drink from it.  It wasn’t until he lowered it after his third drink, to Andreas concerned instructions to "please drink slowly", that he realized how his other arm throbbed.  He looked at his shoulder, finding a sleeve missing from the tunic he was wearing.

"Your arm may hurt still, Your Majesty," Andreas said.  "Your shoulder was out of place--"

Teagan remembered being held up by a guardsman and half-dragged back to the palace unable to move his arm.  He nodded, lifting an approving eyebrow at Andreas.  The rest of his homecoming played out in his mind, Anora’s horrified expression when she saw him.  A moment later and she’d been issuing commands. While his adrenaline from the fight faded, it was replaced with Anora’s voice as he passed out.

"The Queen?"

"She watched over you while your wounds were worked on.  She left for her own bed not more than two hours--"

"Teagan?"  Anora carried herself through the doorway with regal disposition.  If she’d been asleep, she did not look it.  She was pale and dressed as though bed might have been her intention, but her eyes were far too alert for him to believe she’d slept.

"Hey."

Anora glanced at Andreas and nodded.  When her gaze came back to his, she gave him a half-smile and stepped farther into the room.  She waited until Andreas stepped through the door before turning away to close it behind the chantry woman.  

"You gave me a fright today," Anora said.  She walked around his bed to stand close to him and still keep an eye on the door.  "The guards informed me what happened, though I’m not sure what I’m supposed to believe about the events that transpired on the docks this morning."

"Did any of them live?"

"Your attackers?"

Teagan nodded.  "One of them ran away."

"Yes.  So they said.  One of the members of the city guard gave chase, but when the guard followed him down an alley and tried to arrest him, the man attacked.  The guard killed him.  None of the others survived."

Anora squared her shoulders and Teagan watched a flash of pride in the Queen’s smile.  His head throbbed when he moved, but instinct lifted an eyebrow at her in question.  

"There were only five of them, the guards say.  It’s no surprise that none of them live."  She gave a chill shrug.  "Not saying it would not have been useful to take one for questioning.  However, they did attack you.  The fault is their own.

He rolled his eyes away as he settled his head back on his pillow.  

Anora was quiet at his side, but her hand remained on his.  He moved his thumb against her hand, and though she didn’t turn her hand into his, she didn’t move it away either.  Something about that was almost calming, or would’ve been if not for the pain and the things unsaid between them.

After several minutes Teagan turned back to her finding her ice blue eyes resting on their hands; she looked up with a wan smile.

Quietly he asked, "Have they learned anything?"

"Mm, no.  One of the guardsmen said he heard one of them shout in Orlesian.  The city guard was changing patrols and Cauthrien believes the attack may have been meant for them instead."  She sighed, looking unconvinced.  "If they were spies, they were bad ones.  Or at the very least, unprepared or new to the city.  Perhaps all of that."

"And me?"

"I agree with our Guard Captain on this, when she says that she doesn’t think the attack was meant for you.  You just have horrible timing, husband."

Teagan cracked a smile, lips stinging as he did.  He wrapped his fingers around the waterskin and reluctantly lifted it away from her hand.  She watched him drink and smiled when he finished, but when he lowered his hand back to the bed, her hand didn’t cover his again.  He breathed soft and tired, eyes closing and harder and harder to open, even with Anora at his side watching.  Or maybe because she watched him so intently.

"Did they wake you?" he asked.

"No."

He smiled and fatigue tugged harder at him, closing his eyes.  Mumbling he said, "Then you should rest."

From what felt like far away he felt warmth on his hand, and heard Anora’s voice.  "I will if you will."

The next time Teagan awoke was to the sound of clinking dishes nearby and the sweet smell of bread.  His head hurt, but less than before and he found his arm more willing to comply with his actions.  His room was empty save the tray of food that’d been placed on the side table and he heard the shuffling feet of some servant leaving the room.  He was too warm to be comfortable under the covers and he struggled to extricate himself from them, his leg proving the most stubborn.  By the time he was done he was sweating slightly and breathing in short gulps.  He rested back against his pillow and examined the food next to him.  His stomach turned at the sight of the bread and meat on the tray, but he took some of the bread and the mug of water from the tray.

After a few long drinks and several bites of the bread, which thankfully soothed his stomach, he called weakly for one of the guards.  A young man came around the corner with a sharp bow for Teagan once he made it through the door.

"How long have I slept?"

"Off and on for most of a day and a half, Your Majesty."

"Since I was attacked... ?"

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Is it midday then?"

"Half-past."

Teagan nodded and took another drink of his water, finding it to be his last.  He raised the mug at the guardsman.  "Have someone bring more water.  And there was a chantry sister here before, a healer?"

"Yes.  Andreas, Your Majesty."

"Have her sent for as well."

He waved a hand to dismiss the guardsman and put the mug down on the tray.  Finishing his last bites from the hunk of bread he’d taken from, Teagan forced himself up a little more to look at his leg.  It was wrapped tight and the dressing wasn’t discolored.  Either someone had changed it recently, or his leg was healing well enough not to bleed through.  He was lucky the arrow he took landed in his thigh, but it would take time adjust to the injury as it healed.  Even with whatever the healer had given him, and the long periods of rest, without magical healing (which he’d refuse for such an injury anyhow) he wouldn’t be good for long periods of walking or standing for some time.  

Teagan lifted his leg, grimacing at the sharp ache in his thigh, and slid it off the bed.  His breath caught when he bent his leg over the corner but he kept moving.  He was resting, perched on the edge of the bed and touching his toes to the ground when a knock sounded on the open door behind him.

"You should not be sitting up," Anora said, voice cold and commanding.

"I can’t lay down forever."

"No, but you can stay down while it heals."  

He shook his head.  "I wanted to see what I have to look forward to."

Anora came around the bed, carrying a pitcher of water in her hands and nodding at it when he saw her.  "Heard you wanted this too."  She poured water into his empty mug and sat the pitcher down next to his tray.  

"You’re carrying my water now?"

"And making sure your food is tasted before you get it."  She smiled and it was warm, almost teasing.  "They said you were awake and asking for the healer."

He nodded.  "Is she still in the palace?"

"For the moment," Anora said.  "She’ll be here soon.  I wanted to see you first."

"Did you?"  Teagan smiled wanly.  "I know we need to talk about other matters, Anora.  My injury was..."

"An unfortunate attack.  We may not have answers on that presently, or at all given that your attackers all perished for their miscalculations.  The rest, we can talk about now before Andreas arrive, if you wish.  Or after she examines your injuries."  Anora shrugged and sat tenderly on the edge of the bed next to him.  Her movements were slow and tense, careful of the distance between them.  

"Depends on what you have to say," he said.  "I only mean to apologize.  My weeks in Kirkwall have made me resolute in one thing."

Anora peered at him, lifting her eyebrow with a curious smile.  "Only one?"

"There are other small matters, but I think they all led me to the same conclusion."  Teagan reached out for her hand, curling his fingers around hers and squeezing.  His arm ached, but there was no sharp pain as he moved and tensed his muscles.  

"What is that then?"

He searched her face, watching for uncertainty and distrust.  He saw it, but it also looked like hope in her eyes, in the soft smile and curving brow.  He wanted to do more than hold her hand, but Anora was not a woman given to quick, passionate moments.  She observed and strategized and deliberated.  Even now, the complex tangle of emotions he thought he saw were only there when he was looking for them, her expressions structured carefully.  She was ever her father’s daughter, and in the month without her, he found he missed her careful, thoughtful moments.  He’d missed her, but not in the way he’d ever expected to miss a beautiful woman like her.  It was these moments, hopeful ones, when she couldn’t help but be both wife and Queen.

Teagan smiled as her hand turned up against his, fingers squeezing his in return.  "The same as I said to you our wedding night, Your Majesty.  When we agreed to see where this would take us, what we could make of our decision.  Perhaps I did a poor job of it before, I’m sorry for that."

Anora nodded, but remained silent.

"You know everything I knew of Eamon’s plans for Rainesfere.  Alistair refuses it, and after seeing his current state I couldn’t be more thankful for that.  I don’t care what else Eamon wanted for it.  I think my seneschal is capable enough to keep it for us until you and I decide who replaces me."

"You do?"

"I do.  I spent the trip thinking of possible replacements, and I can think of no one.  There’s no one close enough to take it save my brother, and he has no one to run it.  I think Alistair was his one idea, and I knew it was a bad one."  Teagan sighed.  "I just didn’t have the heart to refuse him.  He’s my brother."

"And now?"  Anora’s smile returned, smaller but encouraging.

"If you’ll still have me, I’m yours alone, Your Majesty.  He’s my brother.  Always will be.  But my duty is to you.  To Denerim, to Ferelden, and to you, my Queen."

Anora chuckled.  Her eyes looked softer, darker and her smile when she spoke made him smile too.  "I had so many unkind words for you after you left, Teagan."  She shook her head, sad perhaps and heavy with thoughts.  When she looked back up her smile was gone.  "I held them to myself but I thought them often.  I felt-  You kept your secrets and maybe I can understand some of why you kept them, but you lied to me with your silence.  While you were gone I found myself enjoying the life I could have lived."

Teagan’s smile was gone and he looked down at their hands.  She hadn’t pulled away from him and he wanted to think that meant there was still hope for them.  He swallowed, shamed by her words, and his stomach turned sour.

Her fingers moved against his with just a light touch but enough to draw his attention back to her.  "Without this marriage, I might have been able to be the Queen I so badly wanted to be."

His heart was a stone, sinking.  His choices were already made and he’d said what he meant to say to her.  Whatever she chose he could live with, he would have to.  He’d been the one in the wrong.  And Anora didn’t need him to know she was a good queen, or to be a good queen.  She hadn’t needed Cailan, or her father either.  It was his own fault for not remembering that sooner.

Anora was silent for a moment watching him with pursed lips and an expression on her face Teagan couldn’t identify.  She looked down and Teagan felt her fingers gently squeeze his and then she drew her hand away.  Her hands went to her stomach as she often did before drawing in a steadying breath. Her shoulders shifted down and back as she straightened, then stood.

"Your words, Teagan, I hope they are more than that.  I might have been happy to be alone once, had this not happened."  She huffed and shook her head.  "It surprised me, to find that I missed you, but I did.  And this--"  she waved a hand at him-- "I am unhappy that you are injured, but I am more frustrated that it happened at all.  Without your secrets you would never have been in Kirkwall this past month.  You would not have been on those docks in order to be attacked.  I will be very cross if I have a child that cannot learn to fight from their father.  Or a husband who I cannot trust around his child for fear of what lies he might spread to them.

"So I hope you mean what you say.  For all our sakes."

Teagan had been watching her as she spoke and felt half-admonished, half-admiring.  Her words were so certain, and her emotions didn’t leak into them, even when her eyes started to betray the harshness of them.  She spoke clearly, but the meaning of her words took moments for Teagan to register.

He blinked, head canting as he thought her words over again to make sure he’d understood her.  As his thoughts cleared, his eyes fell to her hands and swept back to her face to find a smile breaking across her lips.  

"A child?" he asked softly.

Anora nodded.  "Andreas was here the morning you arrived home, for me.  I needed to be sure."

"And you are?"

"I am."

 


End file.
